


For A Lifetime

by Flow_InHeart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Aurors, Department of Mysteries, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Mythical Beings & Creatures, Past Lives, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Soulmates, magical lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 143,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flow_InHeart/pseuds/Flow_InHeart
Summary: Life wasn't a story book where everything had concluded with a line of 'Happily Ever After' when the villain was defeated. Hermione found out that life after the war wasn’t like what she had planned and on top of it, she had to navigate life as an adult through her grief.Tragedy changed people, bonds were tested and new threat appeared. Meanwhile, she would learn that some things might be beyond what it seemed.---***---Another time, another life, they made promise to be together. Bound to duty and destiny to fulfill, chance had them meet. And even only for a short moment, they’d find a way to reach each other.Post DH, EWE





	1. Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing Potterverse from JKR for fun, no money involved.
> 
> This initially was an original story I wrote some years ago and when I re-read it, the side characters somehow remind me of Dramione and since Dramione fanfics was my refuge this past few months, I felt like want to return the favour. So I tweak it a bit to fit HP universe and here we are.
> 
> I try to be as close as possible to the books, so everything that happened up to the 7th book stayed the same (except for the epilogue).  
Instead of a straight up romance, this story will be more about Hermione's life post the Battle of Hogwarts in DH which in this case include her career so in term of Dramione romance, it will be slow burn.
> 
> So without further ado, let’s raise the curtain!! 
> 
> \- yukari

She had asked him to wait, so he waited. She’d said that he would find her, she’d promised him that. So there he was, waiting for her. Close enough to The Gate because he knew that she would be there. That way, he would find her.

He knew when she came, he could feel her. Right at that moment.

It took him all his might not to run straight to her. In this form it would be easy for him to locate her, but no, it was not the time. That wasn’t how they could be together. No matter how much he longed for her, that’s not how they supposed to meet. She’d vowed that she would be his, but Fate would never allow it in his current form. So he still needed to endure another wait.

Nine months later, he was born to a couple who lived in a mediaeval manor nearby.

He was one of High Council so he could retain his memory and some of his Gift once he got a touch of his magic. Though of course Fate wouldn’t go easy on him, he won’t be given that advantage. As he regained his memories, his Gift would fade. He understood that, it was the rule. But it didn’t mean that it’d be easy for him.

His Sight was clear when he was a toddler, when he didn’t have enough knowledge to process what he’d _seen_ nor to use it. By the time he was old enough to understand, the Vision only came randomly in blur which only confused him instead of giving him information. Not to mention so much knowledge from his memory was clashing with what his _parents _had taught him.

_“You have to know that you’re triply special, Son,” his father told his 2 years old self. “Firstly you’re a wizard, secondly you’re a Pure-blood, and the most important is you’re a Malfoy. Malfoy’s always on top, we don’t bow down to anyone.”_

But around a year later when he had his first accidental magic, his past memories returned and he _knew_ that every single being had their own part and purpose in life, no soul was above the other. For a young still-developing mind, it could be confusing and quite difficult to handle; to sort out which one was right and which one was wrong. So it wasn’t surprising if it affect his temper.

Added to that, becoming a human was quite a challenge, they’re full of irony. And even with magic, as a young boy he’s more or less helpless. But the house he was born into was wealthy; a family with power, a power that would be an advantage for him in the future. Because one thing that he knew for certain since the moment he was born; there’s a big part of him that missing, something he needed to find. Something important, a certain someone; _her_, his reason. So he had to adapt, until he was able to hold that power and stand on his own feet. He had to survive this; for her, to find her. And if it meant that he’d have to follow his father _instructions_, so be it.

Surely acting as an entitled and poised Scion of a large estate wouldn’t be a hard work. And presenting himself with dignity or commanding other around him wasn’t really different with his previous life. It should be easy to pass his childhood life. But how wrong he was, human was stupid creature. How could he forget all those reasons that always frustrated him about this creature. Just like he’d predicted long ago, it’d taken only few centuries before human losing sight of their magic. And this time, he had no choice but to get entangled in this mess from young age.

While he agreed that not every human deserved magic, he didn’t see any reason to treat them like dirt. But he had role to play, and acted he did. But he certainly never wanted to injure anyone, so he didn’t understand why he was attacked just for a few words and he was rather shock when his father went as far as to put the Hippogriff to death. Surely someone could see that it wasn’t alright and prevented it from happening. Even that half-giant must have some capacity as a teacher, right? But no! With that huge body, it repulsed him how he didn’t really do anything besides burying his face in his handkerchief.

_“Look at him blubber!”_

_He had been standing just inside the castle doors with his two acquaintances, listening._

_“Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?” he said with disdain. “And he’s supposed to be our teacher!”_

_He saw from the corner of his eyes that the bespectacled boy and the red head both made furious moves toward him, but he didn’t see her coming and – SMACK!_

_She had slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster. He staggered. Potter, Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as she raised her hand again._

_“Don’t you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you evil –“_

He didn’t really care on what happened next. It was like a flood gate opened up, memory after memory had cascaded into his head, slammed him so hard he could barely stand. Her smile, her touch, her voice, her _promise_. It was her.

It was a lot to take in a short time. He retreated in a hurry, rather than chancing duel with her.

He knew that this definitely made everything more difficult. Fate really hadn’t made it easy for him.

\---***---

_ “How I wish I could just ask you to go with me,” he said, gripping her hand tightly._

_She smiled, so radiant almost made him blind. Her eyes still had the spark that captivated him every time she looked up straight to his eyes._

_“You know I can’t do that,” she coaxed him. Her voice was soft, more of whisper, but it pierced his heart like a sharp knife. It’s hurt, he closed his eyes, unable to hold her gaze._

_“You will always choose them,” he relented bitterly. “Why I even hope, stupid me.” _

_He knew that his words would erase her smile and he could hear sadness in her voice, “Hey, you’re being unfair here. You know it’s not like that.”_

_Yes, he knew. He knew that it was a futile battle even before he asked. Right from the moment he first saw her, he knew that they couldn’t be together. They had their own duty, _**she** _had her duty; her destiny. She would defy her existence – her purpose – if she chose him, and she would never do that. But he just needed someone to blame, and it certainly wasn’t Fate. He knew this was the end when he felt her releasing her hands. He would do everything not to do it, but he had to let her go._

_Then he felt her hands on his cheek, forcing him to open his eyes._

_“Will you wait for me?” she wishfully asked.”Wait for me, okay. Then you will find me. In time, I’ll be yours, only yours,” she added boldly._

_He forced a smile. “Why, is that an order you just gave me?” he questioned her playfully, tried to make light of their conversation._

_“No, it’s a promise.” she said in a firm tone. _

_She reached his left hand with her right and he felt wash of warmth through his palm. He looked down to their joined hand and gasped. A thin white thread coming out from her first finger, circling his wrist while forming spiralling loop before end it in a tight intricate knot._

_ His eyes returned to hers, understood the implication of her action but still couldn’t believe it. She only lifted their joined hand to her lips, kissing it softly whilst maintaining their gaze. “There. I pledge you my heart,” She presented their joined hand. “I will never be far, so you surely will find me. And in case you manage to find me but you fail to recognise me, I’ll come straight to you and confront you,” Her statement didn’t have any doubt in it._

_Dumbfounded, he could only replied, “You’ll make sure of it?”_

_“Oh, yes,” she confirmed solidly. “And it’ll be something that leave big impact on you,” she vowed, lightly tapped his left cheek, a huge grind on her face._

_There’s a lot of thing he wanted to say, but he was too mesmerised with what she did that he’s losing words. Had nothing to say, he closed the distance between them, pressing his forehead on hers with their hands still clapped together and whispered, “Yes, I’ll wait. Then I will find you.”_

_He raised his right hand to cup her cheek, his thumb traced the line of her lower lip. They only stood there like that for awhile, relishing the moment. There’s no rush between them to do anything. After all, there’s no guarantee what could happen in the future. They’re already tiptoeing on the edge of their boundary. So much to risk and everything could go wrong, or they would meet and be together on a borrowed time._

_She released a soft sigh when he kissed the tip of her nose, deliberately moved down to the corner of her lip before captured her lower lip and lingered there for a few seconds. Their first kiss. And their last in this lifetime. Their parting kiss. Chaste and short._

_Eyes locked on each other, she put her hand on his and leaned her head against it. “I’m all yours.”_

_And with that, they parted._


	2. Healing

A mumbling sound disenchanted her from her reverie. It must be Madam Pince renewing her jinxes to the books on the shelves, as she often did on a weekend like this. When the exams got closer, students was bound to raid the shelves for last minute study and the librarian had known too well what’s prone to happen to her book at the hands of those kinds of students. Therefore, she was always made sure to be prepared beforehand.

Hermione shook her head, gathering her sense. She realised that she must have fallen to her usual trance again mid reading. It started to occur after her trip to Australia. Most of the time the memories of the war and what happened after would swarm her mind, but her brain would not let the emotions to overwhelm her by formulating what she should have been done to alter the outcome before her mind went overdrive and trapped her in her own thought, hence the trance.

The day was warm for a late March, a sign that the spring was approaching. A day with the clearest, beautiful sky, cloudless as far as the eyes could see. The sun was shining bright and ice on the corner of the window started to melt. As it’s also coincidence with Hogsmeade weekend, almost all students escaped the cold atmosphere of the castle and sought the warm outside, leaving a quite Hogwarts. Everything had started to feel normal again.

In the aftermath of Voldemort’s fall, the Wizarding world was quick to recover, mostly as distraction from their grief. Kingsley Shacklebolt was appointed as temporary Minister of Magic, funerals were held in quick succession, the captured Voldemort’s follower were tried immediately to prevent them from escaping and joining other who managed to slip – for what was left of Auror force had been concentrated to secure and control situation post conflict instead of chasing fugitive – , and volunteers were pouring for the reparation effort.

Hogwarts had brunt the most damage of the war, but it was a place many people hold dear so a lot came and the process was done in short time, even sooner than Diagon Alley or Ministry of Magic. By September, the school was ready to welcome the students with Minerva McGonagall as Headmistress. Or so she heard.

Hermione and Harry stayed at the Burrow after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Weasleys had lost one member and Mrs Weasley wanted to keep all her children close, including Hermione and Harry. Harry had no problem since he never thought of returning to the Dursley again (if they ever returned to Privet Drive), but Hermione’s thought soon wandered to her parents.

She had modified their memory and sent them to Australia to protect them with no thought that she would made it through the war to meet them again, but it had only been a year, maybe - _just_ _maybe_ – she still had some hope to locate them and restored their memory.

One week after Fred’s funeral, she told Harry and Ron of her plan.

_ “I ... I’m sorry, Hermione. But I can’t go with you,” Ron didn’t looked comfortable when he said it. “My family need me. After Fred ... Can you delay it? At least until Mum’s okay,”_

_ ‘You’, not ‘we’. As if he didn’t want to include himself from the start. It might not be on purpose, but Hermione couldn’t absorb it that time. Instead she recalled how he deserted them at the Forest of Dean few months ago, and in her mind he just did it again. It stung. _

_She just couldn’t understand why. They’d kissed during the battle. They hadn’t defined it yet, whether it was adrenaline or other. But with what had happened between them all those years, she thought that they had something._

_She took a deep breath, already made her decision. After all this time, why she’s the one who always had to give in?_

_“And when will it be, Ron? Can’t you guarantee that it won’t be too late for my parents?” She managed to say it calmly even though in reality she wanted to shout it. “With or without you, I’ll go. I’m sure I can manage.”_

_Ron flinched, there’s some guilt visible in his eyes. He shifted his broad shoulders, fidgeting. After a while, he opened his mouth to say something but Harry went first. _

_“I’ll go with you, Hermione,” Harry cut in. He reached for her hand on the table and encased it in his. ”Just like how you always stick by me, I won’t leave you alone in this. And you already met my parents anyway, so it’s only fair if I meet yours,” he said the last sentence in lighter tone, smiling._

When modifying her parents’ memories, Hermione had planted an idea in their mind that they wanted to move to Adelaide, so it’s where they’d start. Her mother had mentioned in passing one Christmas during one of their world monopoly game when she landed Australia, that she wanted to visit Adelaide. She’d read somewhere that they had the largest Christmas parade and she’d like to see that.

They planned to use Muggle means to travel since it was too far for Apparation and arranging International Portkey or Floo would be difficult since Ministry was still in disarray. And as Ron wouldn’t be with them, it’d make travelling by flight a lot easier since both were familiar with it. Hermione had already owned passport from her last trip to France with her parents three years ago but Harry hadn’t thus he needed to make one. They’d leave as soon as he got one.

That was the original plan until one night, five days from their first conversation, Hermione stumbled upon Harry’s argument with Ginny at the backyard. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop and just started to leave when she heard her name was mentioned.

_ “Okay, I understand,” her voice cold. “You will always leave me, right. Again. For another greater good.”_

_“She’s my best friend, Gin. She erased her parents’ memory to go to wild goose chase with me. Even in the hardest time, she’d stayed. How can I leave her when she needs me? What kind of person I’ll be if I do that?” _

_“I lost my family too, Harry. In case you forget, my brother’s dead!” she snapped bitterly. “But yes, it will always be Hermione. After all she was and will always be the one beside you. Nobody can replace her place.”_

_“Gin, it’s not like that. I don’t love her like how I love you. She’s like a sister I never had, she’s family for me, Gin.” he tried to persuade her._

_“I don’t know, Harry!” she spat out angrily. “What I know is I will never be your choice.”_

_“Gin ...”_

That night, she’d packed her belonging and left the Burrow. Alone. Only one note on the kitchen table, thanking Mrs Weasley for her kindness, to be found in the morning.

She found her parents just two weeks after she’d arrived at Adelaide. But restoring their memories was not as simple as she’d expected. She had used a complicated spell on their memories to make sure that they’d be well protected if someone ever tried to break it, which turned up also included herself. She’d gone to several well known Mind Healers in that country, but there’s nothing they could do that wouldn’t involve damaging her parents’ mind. Seven weeks later, she gave up and returned to England.

In the nine weeks she’s away, she never communicated with anyone in England. Because she wasn’t ready to face anyone either, she headed to her childhood home at Heathgate, London. Her parents had put it on sale when they left to Australia but it hadn’t sold yet. She put couple of Protection Wards and Muggle-Repelling Charms around and hid there until a Hogwarts owl came with an invitation, offering her to retake her seventh year and completing her NEWT.

Over the summer, the story of their adventure had been plastered all over the papers. The titles ranged from Harry who was hailed as ‘The Saviour’ to three of them who got the title ‘The Golden Trio’. Even she was declared as ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age’ for the claim that she had played important role in Harry’s achievement since school. Neville also got his share in the spotlight, he was the ‘The Serpent Slayer’ now and depicted as the leader of Hogwarts Resistance Movement (the paper’s word) during Headmaster Snape’s tenure.

After the Battle of Hogwarts (that’s what they called it), there’s no interview to any member of Order of the Phoenix nor member of Dumbledore Army who had fought during Voldemort second reign since most of them chose to disappear to grieve or distracting themselves by working on post-war recovery effort. But all war trials were open to public and many Order and DA member had been called to give testimony. It’s amazing what the papers could write from what they’d gathered from the trial testimony and some additional witness accounts who’s either claimed to know them or happened to be where they were on certain points. At least they printed – mostly – the truth and thankfully nothing had been mentioned about Horcrux or Deathly Hallow.

In short, even though she’d been hiding, by the end of summer she was almost as famous as Harry. But with her life in a mess, she couldn’t handle facing wizarding community especially with her new ‘status’. At first she thought of staying in Muggle world and see how long she would last when basically there was nothing left for her; no parents, no home, no education. Hence, the invitation from Hogwarts had been gladly accepted.

“Daydreaming again, Granger?”

“Malfoy! Merlin, you scare me,” she scolded her study partner for the past 5 months. “And no, I’m not. I’m just deep in thought of my Potion essay,”

Rolling his eyes, he replied in a flat tone, “Yeah, and I call it ‘day dreaming’.” Ignoring her huff, he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat there before started unpacking his bag in an orderly fashion. “Don’t make habit of it, Granger. You surely don’t want to be found walking in a daze to strange place.”

She retorted primly, “I told you I’m not!” A shade of blush faintly appeared on her cheek. The problem was, he’s right.

It already happened twice. The first time had happened on October, a day after her mother’s birthday. She couldn’t sleep the night before and had just cried in silence remembering her mother. Exhausted, she decided to go to the kitchen for early breakfast but then finding herself in the empty Charm classroom with no recollection on why or how she’d ended up there.

Her first thought was that someone had used Imperius on her then Obliviate her, but a simple memory spell would’ve left trace and she couldn’t find it. It would be too farfetched for someone to use the same memory modification spell that she’d used to her parents, it’s too early for anyone to roam the castle anyway. At that time, she’d experienced several episodes of trance already, mostly during classes, so she deduced that she must have sleep-walked with eyes open on the way to kitchen, especially with the stress and her lack of sleep.

The second time was on her way back to Gryffindor Tower after another late night reading in the library. But that time, Sir Nicholas had stopped her on her way to who-know-where. He said that he’d called her several times but she just kept walking in a daze. She knew then that she needed help. She went straight to the Hospital Wing and that night Madam Pomfrey let her to sleep there.

It was mostly stress and anxiety. Her advice was that Hermione tried to talk on her issues and not to keep burying it in her mind. But she didn’t feel comfortable to speak to anyone nor did she have anyone to talk to. In the end, the matron then suggested her to start writing journal which she did and she had less occurrence of spacing out. But it didn’t mean that she wanted to admit that she had ‘problem’ to everyone.

“I thought you’ll go to Hogsmead. The weather is rather nice outside,” she prompted, watching him arranging his books and parchments on the table. He’s always very organized and neat; textbook on his left, parchment for his essay in front of him completed with ink bottle next to it, and his notes on his right.

“I don’t,” he replied shortly, not diverting his attention of what he’d been doing.

“Did Madam Rosmerta still ...,” she started then stopped when she saw two green apples on the table. “You bring food to library?! Madam Pince will kick you out!”

Finally he shifted his gaze to her. “She won’t know.” Pushing one apple to her, he taunted her, “But I wish I can bribe you for your silence. Just don’t let its juice to drip on any book, okay.”

“I would never–,” she started to deny but was hushed by Malfoy with his finger on his lips and his head tilted to the librarian table direction. Well, Madam Pince would also banish her if she made ruckus, she wouldn’t make any exception even if it was her. Hermione just clenched her teeth and seethed while Malfoy placidly opening his note.

Had nothing to say, she eyed the green apple in front of her and realised that her stomach was grumbling. From the length of the shadow next to the window, she definitely had missed lunch.

She flicked her eyes to Malfoy and seeing that he already started writing on his parchment, she pretended to _reluctantly_ picked up the apple. After another act of inspecting it, she took a bite and muttered, “To prove that I can eat without soiling my book.”

Her words didn’t affect the motion of his quill, but she caught a slight movement in the corner of his mouth. And when she cast down her gaze to her text, a dimple appeared on her right cheek. A comfortable silence descended among them in the next hours as they worked on their essays, with only sound of paper been flipped or quill scratching the parchment in between.

Funny how life had changed after the war. Here she was; technically an orphan, not on speaking term with any of her best friends – Harry and Ron had joined Auror office which was offered to them despite their lack of NEWT and thing was still weird between her and Ginny – and on top of it, currently she was pleasantly sitting across the boy who had introduced her to the wizarding derogatory word and also used to be her best friend’s biggest school adversary. If one year ago someone had asked her how she would imagine her life after they defeated Voldemort, it certainly wasn’t like this.

_It was the evening when the first snow fell. She was searching for a secluded corner in the library. It’s not that her usual spot was not private enough, but almost everyone in Hogwarts knew that it was her table. But with her avoiding Great Hall, took her meals earlier or skipped it completely if not went straight to kitchen when she’s really hungry, everyone in school knew that the only place they could spot her outside her room and classes (and the only place she won’t avoid) was library. Some weren’t even being discreet when they’re pointing or stealing glance to her directions while pretending to study on nearby table or looking some books on the next shelves. It’s irritating. She was there to work on her schoolwork (and got some peace), not to be a spectacle! If only Room of Requirement still existed, she’d holed up there._

_She wandered near the Restriction Section. That area was forbidden for the lower years and it was rather dreary there so the upper years also seldom ventured there, which sound like a perfect place to hide. But unfortunately, there’s only one table there and someone had already sat on it. Even with his back on her, she knew exactly who he is. Those striking white blond hair only belong to one person in Hogwarts ground, namely Draco Malfoy._

_She didn’t follow the aftermath of post-war trial so she didn’t really know what had happened to him. But either it was from the war or the trial, Malfoy had changed. He’d become more guarded and ... subdued somehow. _

_On her first day at Hogwarts, they had accidentally crossed path at the entrance to the Great Hall and he had quietly apologised to her. He didn’t elaborate and she also didn’t really know what she supposed to say to the boy who had seen her in her worst moment, so she just nodded and they parted. That had been the only exchange they had._

_But this time, the view of him sitting alone in some corner of the library had entranced her. It was a rare appearance. As far as she could remember, in her limited visitation to Great Hall she had never seen him there, she only saw him in their shared class. _

_Malfoy looked so focus on his work, quill on his right hand and his left_ _leafing through the pages of his book. And he really had a perfect sitting posture; feet flat on the floor, small gap between the back of his knees and the chair, straight back, elbow off the table, and shoulders relaxed. For a split second, she thought that he looked regal. _

_The way he isolated himself suddenly reminded her of their year six. Her curiosity piqued and the next minute, Hermione was already standing next the shelves just behind him. She knew that she should have just looked for table somewhere else before Malfoy noticed her and they would end up with some hexes been thrown. But her curiosity won, so instead of leaving Hermione cautiously took a step closer to Malfoy._

_She peered over his shoulder, sneaking a peek on what he’s doing. It’s their Arithmancy homework that’s due next month. It was about calculation on stability of Stasis Charm application on_ _Draught of Living Death potion. It was rather tricky because it could either make it less potent or turn it more volatile. Suddenly, she was engulfed in a mix of feeling insulted and ashamed. She hadn’t even touched it yet when Draco Malfoy almost finished his, and she’s Hermione Granger!_

_He used different formula than what she would’ve preferred and it seemed to work well in the beginning until he made unexpected addition. Before she could stop herself, abruptly she blurted, “You can’t do that, it’s wrong. It will change all variables and create unbalance.”_

_Malfoy whirled around, eyes wide, more startled than surprised. Both of them were frozen for a full thirty seconds before she realised what she had done. She started to get unease and was prepared for the onslaught of mean words, but then he spoke, “Yes. But the multiplication perform later on will counter it and create more stability.”_

_Her eyes flickered. More than being shocked by his unexpected civil response, her brain went on full speed doing the rough calculation. She gasped, “That’s an interesting approach, why I never thought of it?!” Her face lit up with enthusiasm, unconsciously she moved and sat on the chair beside him. “I see .... But hey, don’t you think if you divide it in the second part, the equation will reach equilibrium better?” she suggested, pointing on one of the calculation._

_“True, but it will make it more complicated,” he countered, still in careful tone._

_She paused, thinking. “Yes, you’re right. I get your point. Then what if_ –_.” She stopped, suddenly realising where she was. But she was Gryffindor and her gut told her to just storms in. “Erm ... c-can I ... can I sit here?” she stammered, her voice getting lower._

_He blinked, twice. “Sure,” He shoved his books on the table to make room for her._

Since that day, they had an unspoken agreement that the table would become theirs. Sometimes they exchanged greeting, other time Hermione would just sink down on the chair opposite him and wordlessly start her works. Malfoy was always already there before her that Hermione started to suspect that he lived there.

She suspected that just like her, Malfoy was there to find solitude. Most of his Slytherin dorm mate was avoiding him while the rest of Hogwarts student population were either disliked him or wary of him for his Death Eater status.

But surprisingly, Hermione enjoyed her time in the library. They spent their time there mostly in silence, neither one did anything that distracted the other when they were deep in their work. Their conversation, if they had, was about schoolwork. More often than not, it was prompt by her curiosity that made her blurted a question on his essay or the book in front of him and he would answered it in a short careful sentence. Sometimes Hermione managed to goad him to elaborate further, breaking his stoic persona, but then he’d realise that he spoke too much and concluded his sentence in his usual even tone.

He was a good study partner. For the first time, she had someone to talk about Arithmancy equation who _understood_ what she’s talking about, debated her on Rune interpretation, and exchanging idea of Charm modification. At one point she finally (and begrudgingly) had to admit that he was better than her in Potion, it wasn’t just the case of Snape’s favouritism in the past.

“Granger, do you still have the _Eastern Europe Plants_ with you?” Malfoy asked, breaking their silence.

“No, I returned it last night. It should be still on its shelves since I don’t think there’s anybody here today beside us,” she said, waving her hand to the shelves behind her.

She heard the sound of chair shifting but she didn’t move her eyes from her essay, just two more paragraphs and she would be done. When she glanced up later, the chair in front of her was empty.

She’d finished her Transfiguration essay and already revised Herbology, Charm, and Potion four times, it should be enough for today. There was still time before the library close and she suddenly was feeling like writing in her journal so she reached her bookbag, put it on her lap and started rummaging inside.

But she couldn’t find it. She was sure she had put it inside when she left her room this morning and she hadn’t taken it out when she’s unpacking on this table. Just to be sure, she searched through the books on the table with no result. Panic crippling trough her spine – there’s lot of her secrets written there – she stood and throwing her gaze around. And there she spotted it, lying innocently on the floor behind her chair and slightly hidden by the shadow.

She walked around the chair and knelt down to pick her journal. It might have been fallen when she absentmindedly unpacking her books. After all she was feeling restless when she woke up this morning, that’s why she only stop by the Great Hall to grab a sandwich and returned to common room before finally decided to find peace at the library. She straightened up and turned ... merely few inches to Malfoy’s chest who just appeared from behind the shelves.

She was stunned. This close, she could smell his cologne, like a fresh cut grass after the rain. For some reason it felt familiar and made her thought of a stream. Her eyes slowly drifted to his face and her breath hitched when it’s trapped on his eyes. They were never this close before and there was something that drawn her to those silvery eyes. Time seemed to stop.

It was hazy after that. She felt a delicate touch on the corner of her lips, puff of warm air near her cheek, then a tender nip on her lower lips. Her body felt light like floating in the foggy air and her hands went limp. She didn’t even hear the soft thud of her journal hitting the floor.

_“I’m all yours.”_

A whisper slashed through her clouded mind, it felt important but she just couldn’t remember what. A flash of vivid hues of colourful light stirring and swirling. A tree reflecting silvery complexion ....

“It’s yours, right?”

That sentence snapped her from the misty notion and she was roused from her stupor, shaken. It took few seconds for her to gather her mind, catching Malfoy scooping her journal.

“What did you just say?”

“Is it yours?” he repeated, proffered her journal.

She took it for his hand. “Yes, it’s mine. Thank you,” she added, clutched it on her chest, more of because she needed something to hold instead of hiding it.

Both still haven’t move from where they were. The snippets of those blurry scenes still hanging in her vision. “Malfoy, did you ...,” she started but then shook her head, banishing the images from her mind. She must be spacing out again or like Malfoy said, day dreaming. “Never mind. Are you finished? I’m tired. I think I have enough for today.”

“I have to add something on my Potion essay.”

Feeling a bit flustered, Hermione packed her belonging in hurry. For a moment she considered to skip dinner and just go straight to Gryffindor Tower, but she already skipped lunch and she’s really hungry so maybe she would just grab something from the kitchen. She gave Malfoy a short nod as a goodbye and retreated, not noticing how Malfoy watching her leaving form with a longing look.

***

He should have known that she would be born as Muggle-born, among the four she was different. But with him being born into family with those kinds of beliefs, it had really raised the stake. But he hadn’t spent thousand years waiting only to watch her from afar.

How he wished he still had full control of his Sight or at least acquired all his past knowledge and wisdom. He knew and understood completely that he should never interfered too much to the Passage of Time, but more or less he would had some view which the best path to take. Was this part of his punishment for his act of disobedience or Fate just found it amusing to play with him?

Not long after he figured her identity, the Dark Lord rising in power. That wizard was the best example on how far human could lose sight of their magic; how he’d tainted the purity of magic, disrespecting his gift. Though he knew that this Ripple would be countered. Even when it wasn’t his duty anymore, he knew that Nature would always seek for balance and he really hoped it would be soon. He just had to survive this, so had she.

He had tried to warn her, scared her even, so she would just hide or at least avoided to be involved further, but of course she would just do that. She’d charge forward, faced everything that came on her way head on. It was her trial in fulfilling her destiny, just like him being on the other side was his trial to reach her.

Again, he was in a position where he couldn’t just sweep her and leave with her. But this time, he wouldn’t only be watching on the sideline. By being on the opposite side, surely he could find a way to protect her or _maybe_ kept the danger away from her. Still, by the end of the spring that year, she ended up in hospital, badly injured. He had failed to prevent her from going. He’d saw a glimpse on what would have happened to her if she went, but he still failed.

But things only got worse. Because family affiliation, he was tangled up deeper in this conflict. He had thought that he could stay alive by staying away from the inner circle, but then he was forced to be involved. He couldn’t die, but how could he took life? It was wrong, not only that he would betray his magic, it’s violation against nature. He thought that maybe if he didn’t directly used magic then he wouldn’t stain his magic, but he knew that it was still wrong. Fortunately, he was spared from that act.

Then in that cloudy day, he had to face what might be his biggest test. There she was, kneeling on the floor in his parents’ drawing room. She was markedly thinner than the last time he saw her, her face was ghostly pale with trace of blood on her lips. For a moment there, he was engulfed in anger toward her two friends more than he had before. How could they let them been captured? She would always follow them, but they had failed to protect her in return.

He tried to buy time, but he knew that the worst hasn’t yet to come.

Even without his mother’s tight grip on his arm, he knew that any reckless move, a tiny mistake, would only end up in their death. So he searched for their connection and desperately held on to it. With all his might, he managed to draw the magic of the land and poured it to her through the string that linked them, shielding her mind. His focus was only on her that he was vaguely aware on what happened around. And when she vanished in front of him, his only thought was a silent prayer that she would be fine.

And it’s finally over.

He couldn’t help but to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw her standing in the middle of crumbled Great Hall, battered and exhausted from the battle. They made it. They’re alive and she’s well. He wanted to run to her and scooped her into his arm, but it wasn’t the time. He must face the legal consequences of his involvement in this war. She wasn’t within his reach yet.

After couple of hearings and long negotiation later, he got his freedom. Yes, technically he was in probation, but he wasn’t locked in a dank cell. Instead, they allowed him to return to the castle for his NEWT.

She had returned as well. He had apologised to her the first time they came face to face and that was it. He knew he had to treat this carefully. With his current predicament, he had to become someone worthy for her before he could start anything with her. But Fate granted him some mercy.

It was a cold day in mid November. As usual, he spent his time in the hidden corner in the library and he planned to work on his Arithmancy project. It was a bit complicated and tricky but challenging, like solving riddle to figure where the right piece would fit. He liked it. In just few minutes he was engrossed in his essay. And then, some time later, he sensed her presence behind him. He could feel her stare on his back as she observed him for awhile. Then he heard her moved, possibly to reach some book and returned to her table while he would be left alone in his own solitude again. Or that’s what he assumed because later, a beautiful voice startled him instead.

“You can’t do that, it’s wrong!”

She had said that she would come to him and confront him. And she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that most anxiety lead to panic attack or at least trembling/shaking, but those spacing out-daydreaming was mine. Few times I found myself going to some place but end up in other place with no recollection on how or why I was there. The worst was when I found myself sitting on the side of empty road, my bike beside me, and I couldn’t remember what had happened. Few hours later, some part of my right hip and elbow had swollen so it seemed that I fell from my bike. I’m normally a quiet person so people used to left me alone, nobody notice my problem and I had trust issue so I never told anyone either. My solution was writing and now it gets better.
> 
> This marks the end of Hogwarts part. If you want to read more about Dramione 8th year or Hogwarts, I recommend you to read **The Eagle’s Nest** by HeartOfAspen (see my Bookmark). It's great and magical, especially how she expanded Hogwarts.


	3. Start Over

Hermione stormed off of the lift as soon as the door opened, dodging several interdepartmental memos that zoomed around her head and only gave brief acknowledgement when couple of co-workers nodded politely to her as they passed each other. She strode down the dimly lit corridor, straight to the farthest double door on the left which led to her office.

Being Division had the largest room in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures which mainly occupied by the Goblin Liaison Office. Meanwhile, Office for House-Elf Relocation sat in a separated small corner with only five cubicles in it. It’s ironic since the House-Elf population in Britain was almost same as Goblin, even larger if Woodland-Elf were included – which sadly, they didn’t even have representative in the ministry as they were more reclusive than Centaur or Merpeople and the last known contact was over 600 years ago so the ministry just hadn’t pondered on it. Actually they should just rename it to Goblin Division since even though there’s Werewolf Support Services in the opposite corner, it’s basically empty as it had been dissolved eight years ago.

She slammed her files to the table, scattering papers and parchment all over the floor, and flopped her body to the chair with a huff.

“So, what did she say?” an amused voice queried her.

She groaned, throwing her head backward. “She didn’t even read it! And she said, ‘Please do your research before you waste my time, Miss Granger’,” said Hermione in mocking tone. “How she know what I wrote if she only read the cover, Ronan?”

Hearing her trying – and failing – to imitated Loretta Fieldwake, he guffawed. “I already told you it will never happen, Hermione.”

Ronan O’Brien was the most senior officer in her office so although there’s no such position as head in this office, everyone just saw him as some short of team leader. He was a nice middle age man and she liked him most of the time, except now.

“But Hickman approved it.”

“Yes, but are you sure that he read it? I knew that you forced it to his table – bypassing his secretary, mind you – then pestering him for a whole three weeks, and that was after he rejected your previous draft four times.”

“If I didn’t do that, it would only end up collecting dust on Cooper’s table or _mistakenly_ was thrown away after she spilled her coffee all over it. I’m just trying my best to do my job.”

House-elf was her passion since her earlier years in Hogwarts, that’s why after graduated Hermione had applied for an entry position in the Office for House-Elf Relocation. She then started to draft on amendment of Elf Regulation from day one. The British Wizarding World had the Guidelines on House-Elf Welfare already, but it had never been abided nor enforced properly for it was more like a suggestion with no necessity to be followed. It’s unbelievable how nobody ever be bothered with so many flaws on the Elf Regulation.

But before she could present her draft to Wizengamot, it needed to pass the Head of her department and the Special Advisor for Elf Legislation. And _finally_, after two and half months of painstaking effort, her boss finally gave the approval yet Fieldwake just shut down her proposal after only a glance on the title for _lack of research_.

She had said that Hermione Granger had lack of research! She only slept for less than three hours most of her days, missed so many lunch and/or dinner, had buried herself in a stack of books and parchments, and she accused her lacking in research?! Didn’t she know that in fact just right after she graduated, Kingsley had offered her a position in Department of Magical Law Enforcement for her ability in researching?!

“If you think it won’t work, why did you let me brought it to Hickman?”

“Because you never listen to me and then you’ll never learn,” he said in patronising way. “Hermione, It’s good that you finally recognised that not every elf want to be freed. Unlike your first draft, now you focus on ensuring their welfare instead of liberating them. I’ve read all your drafts, Hermione. But why do you think wizard will agree to pay them when the elf itself was happy to serve for free? Okay, using the word ‘for free’ sound wrong here, I mean unpaid,” he quipped.

“But it was slavery,” Now Hermione sound more like petulant child pouting to her father more than a junior seeking advice from her mentor. “Besides, we can say that we basically employ Goblin so why can’t we do the same to House-Elf?”

“Short answer is gold. We don’t employ Goblin, we trade with them,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Meanwhile, wizard and House-Elf have different kind of relation. It’s in their nature to serve, so naturally wizard just takes the benefit of it.”

Although she understood the logic, it didn’t make her felt better. “Still ... ,” she trailed off and gave a heavy sigh. She looked around her and noticed that the other chairs were empty. “Where’s the other?”

“They want to have lunch outside, so they left early. Come on, you need to eat too. I’m sure facing Fieldwake had drained all your energy.”

“No lunch box from your wife?” asked Hermione.

“Let just say that she was cross with me. I just hope that there’ll be some dinner for me tonight,” he shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“No. You go. I have no energy to walk to canteen right now,” she returned his quip. “There’s some wheat biscuit in my bag, so I’ll be fine.”

Ronan didn’t push any further and left her on own device like he usually did. That’s what made everyone in the department liked him, he was so easy going and generally never involved in any conflict.

She snaked a glance to the pile of parchment in front of her. Should she just change the title and tried again with Fieldwake? But she had to admit that what Ronan said was right, even if Fieldwake gave her signature to the draft, how she could convince Wizengamot to pass it. She was pretty sure that most, if not all, of the member owned one or few House-Elves. And while some might understood her view (or so she hoped), other most likely would be reluctant if not opposed in spending galleon on their elves when they’re able to not do it.

While she was in Level 1, she even was tempted to drop by to Kingsley’s office just to ask some advices or maybe getting help in pushing her draft. He’d been appointed as Ministry of Magic earlier this year and since then he had done several progressive reforms in his administration. He was a just person and from what she had seen until now, he always treated magical creature fairly. Surely he would understand her perspective, right? But then, it would be a nightmare if Skeeter got wind of it.

Her eyes caught a page of today's Daily Prophet crawling up under her table. _Brightest Witch of Her Age? Nosing Around in Everyone’s Kitchen_ was been printed in bold on the lower column with a photo from one of her house visit last week. Undoubtedly Rita Skeeter didn’t wait too long before attacking her once she resurfaced in the wizarding world. She had accused that she’d gained her position in the Ministry using her _connection_ to Harry – alluding on their past _tryst_ to be exact – and now she also started to ridicule her job.

“Why am I not surprised to find _the_ Hermione Granger for preferring to be surround by paper than having lunch like a mere mortal.” A playful familiar voice was heard behind her.

“And what good deed did I’ve ever done to be granted the honour of your presence, Mr Potter?”

Harry just laughed and deposited himself into the chair beside her. He looked worm out, his hair was all over the place (there’s twig or something like dry leaves sticking in some place), and he looked like he really needed some sleep.

When he had know that she was back to Britain, he had tried to reach her but she kept rebuff him. Harry knew not to push her and giving her some space so he ceased his letter throughout her time in Hogwarts. But he insisted for them to meet after she finished her school, he emphasised that it would be just the two of them. She didn’t know whether she was sad or relieved that it would be only Harry there, but she was touched by the gesture so she’d agreed. And even if they weren’t as close as before yet, but she was happy that she got her friend back.

Although they’re working in the same building, they didn’t meet often. It was mostly Harry who would stop by to her desk occasionally. His work as an Auror really made him busy so she always appreciated his visit. And even though he lived alone at Grimmauld Place, he had Kreacher to take care of him. He was very devoted to Harry now and happily regarded him as his Master. Which brought her to another contradiction on her proposal as she knew that Kreacher would choose to die if Harry ever attempted to free him (he did tried) and he would feel very insulted every time Harry tried to pay him (followed by crying, beating himself, or asked to be beheaded so his head could be hang on the wall like his predecessors until Harry promised not to do it again).

Harry put his hand on his chest and stares her with a look of hurt. “I’m just back from a messy raid so at least please try to pretend that you’re happy to see me. What got you so snippy, Hermione? I’m used seeing papers all over your desk, but now there’s even some under it. Hey, what’s this?” He bended to pick the Daily Prophet and an understanding dawn on his face when he saw the article on the corner. “Just ignore her, Hermione. You only waste your time if you pay any attention to her.”

Hermione sighed. “How I wish I still can catch her and blackmail her with a jar,” she snipped, slamming a can of biscuit on the table.

“She’s registered Animagus now and she didn’t break any law so there’s nothing we can do.”

Annoyed, she chewed the biscuit harshly. “Just wait, she’ll make a mistake. And when it happen, I’ll be there and squeeze her for good. Wanna some?” she offered the can to her friend.

Harry stared at it for a moment before saying, “Don’t tell me this is your lunch. You need to have proper meal, Hermione.”

“No need to preach, Ginny already did it enough.” She took another biscuit from the jar. “Now I’m really convinced that she’s Molly’s daughter.”

His eyes flicker on hearing the name. “How’s she doing?” he asked, tried to sound uninterested while grabbing one biscuit from the jar.

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him with knowing eyes. “Why don’t you just meet her, Harry? Discuss it.”

Harry sighed, casting down his eyes to his lap, “I’ve tried to explain everything to her a year ago, Hermione. I thought that maybe if I gave her some space, just like I did to you, at some point she’ll finally listen.”

There’s a moment of pause, each fell to their own thought.

“Do you think that we’re ready now?” Harry looked up to her, startled. She continued, “The four of us, I mean. Do you think that now we’re mature enough to face this like an adult and have a proper conversation to get some closure so we can move on?”

Harry gave her a sad smile. “I guess we’ll just have to do it to know. That’s how we Gryffindor do, right?”

***

Hermione appeared with a ‘pop’ behind the tick bush few yards from her flat. She checked that the Muggle-Repelling Charms she placed around this bush was still intact before walked away. It never hurt to be careful, this was Muggle area after all and she didn’t want to be caught in trouble by breaking the Statue of Secrecy. But the problem was this was her best option for now.

Call her paranoid, but she didn’t want anyone to just pop out inside her flat and she hadn’t found the proper spell to ward her flat and only allow select people entries. Therefore, she just put full Anti-Apparition Charm around her flat and had designation Apparation point with Muggle-Repelling Charm near her flat. And her fireplace was electric so Floo was out of option, not that she would be willing to go through the complicated procedure in the ministry for arranging Floo network in a Muggle building which also negated her reason for choosing this building in the first place.

Joining the Ministry of Magic didn’t mean that she was ready to brave wizarding public. With her parents’ house already sold, it’s only logical for her to look for a flat in Muggle community for her retreat. Nobody in the ministry knew where she lived or that she lived in Muggle district except for Harry, or maybe Ron if Ginny told him but she doubt it as she was sure Ginny would ask her permission if she wanted to tell anybody of their address.

She turned in her key and her heart beat picked up when she noticed that it wasn’t locked. She was sure that she locked it this morning and the heavy Locking Spell she put was still intact so the only way to open it was by Muggle way and she’s the only one who had the key, unless ... .

The sound of the telly confirmed her suspicion. She breathed a sigh of relief seeing her flatmate lounging comfortably on their sofa, still in her Quidditch uniform.

She hung her robes on the coat rack near the door and said, “How many times do I have to tell you to keep the door locked, Gin.”

She and Ginny had mended their friendship few weeks before NEWT exam. It was impossible not to interact with each other as they shared same common room and classes, not to mention that as the only Gryffindor in her year who returned and the lower year Gryffindor she had known well was only Ginny. There had been an awkward feeling from their fallout looming above them at the beginning but they managed to act cordially.

Then few weeks to NEWT exam, Hermione was back from the library late at night when she found Ginny alone on the couch near fireplace, surrounded by books and looked frustrated. Decided to let bygone be bygone, Hermione casually had asked if she needed some help which Ginny shyly accepted. From there, their friendship had improved gradually. Hence when Ginny told her that she planned to move out after graduation, they agreed to be a flatmate. They always shared a room every time Hermione stayed at the Burrow, so they knew each other’s habit. And even though that it was Muggle flat, Ginny had adjusted seamlessly and really dived in her new experiences with strike.

“Oh, hey Hermione. Sorry. But on my defence, I also just arrived not twenty minutes ago.”

“Yes, but then it’s most likely you’ll take shower and the door remains unlocked. What if some pervert stranger just barging in while you’re in bathroom?” she rebuked her and deposited herself on the armchair. “How’s your training camp? I thought that you’ll only be back in two days.”

Not removing her eyes from the telly, she replied, “Half of the players were injured so Reggie decided to end it early. You know, having ex-player as new coach, naturally you’ll expect that the practice will be better, after all she knew how it felt to be a player so she’ll at least spare us a bit. But no! I can claim that she quite literally turn into harpy!” she exclaimed, finally turned to her.

“Well, your team did indeed named Holyhead Harpies.”

“Yeah, I know. But at this rate, it’s either we won the cup or we all will end up in hospital,” She returned her attention to the telly again. “There’s Shepherd’s pie from Mum in the fridge if you want. It’s a wonder how she still has leftover with Ron still lives there. Oh, and he asked about you by the way,” she added in passing.

Hermione waited for her to elaborate, but Ginny just kept watching the show so she relented and took the initiative. “I met Harry yesterday, he asked about you as well. The way we are now, it looks like as if we’ve been spying on each other for the boys.”

This worked to attract her attention because she then put down the remote and turned her body to fully face her.

“Hermione, I’m not trying to insinuate that you have to ... _do_ something with my brother okay. I’m trying not to be a hypocrite here, because you know that I don’t want you to push me to Harry as well.”

Hermione was undeterred. “Harry and I had a talk about the four of us,” she spoke plainly, “We agreed that after the war, we did need some space to reflect on what we really want. But don’t you think that it’s been long enough?”

Ginny sighed, “You want us to meet and discuss this?”

“Yes. It’s time for us grow up and face this like an adult we are,” She reached her left hand and grabbed it. “I admit it was partially because of my guilt. I felt responsible for our fallout, if I didn’t insisted to go to Australia maybe the four of us would be fine today. Especially since the trip was a failure and now I know that it meant nothing even if I delayed it until everything has settled down. I don’t know what will exist for me and Ron, but you’ll be happy with Harry. ”

“Hermione!” Ginny interrupted. She put her right hand on their joined hand, looked her straight to the eyes. “I told you it was not your fault, stop blaming yourself. And both I and Ron also being selfish about our family, so why couldn’t you? I already had problem with Harry even before you mentioned about going to Australia. And you’re right that we’re all a mess back then, it’s just a matter of what would trigger it.”

Both of them went silence for a moment, just stared at each other eyes.

“Do you think that we’re ready for that talk?” she asked tentatively.

Ginny glanced to the window, staring to the empty space, before she finally sighed and nodded. “Let’s just do it. Doesn’t matter what the outcome, at least we’ll get some closure and move on. Honestly, I had enough on my plate with Reggie training programme.”

“Yes, that what I thought too. So what do think? Dinner, the four of us, so we can just rip it out in one go?”

“Yup. And let’s do it here so if one of us just goes fly off the handle, it won’t end up in the cover page of next day Daily Prophet. No need to postpone it further. Tomorrow or the day after?”

Hermione gave a soft tug on their clasping hands. “Saturday. Let’s hope that Auror Office doesn’t have any raid scheduled on weekend.”

***

“What time did you tell them to come?” Ginny shouted from the kitchen, her hand busy with the saucepan. This was one of the drawbacks of living in Muggle building. With magic, all of this would be easier and faster but too much magic would interfere with any electronic devices nearby not only theirs but also their neighbours, so they’d have to minimise their magic exertion in the flat.

The inviting aroma of roasting chicken mix with fried garlic filled the flat. She spooned bit of the mince from the pan, tasted it, and nodded in approval. Satisfied with her sauce, she started to work on the spaghetti.

“Six, but maybe they had trouble finding this flat. I told Harry to Apparate to Manor Park and walk from there. I gave him map, but you know them,” Hermione answered from the dining table, eating utensils in place and nothing else to do. It’s not that she didn’t want to help Ginny in the kitchen and while her cooking skill wasn’t on par with Ginny’s, at least she could help with the knife. But Ginny shushed her; they didn’t have much time and she didn’t want Hermione to disturb her way.

“Good. Everything will be ready when they arrived then.” She peeked on the oven. “The chicken is almost done. We really should be home earlier, I didn’t expect it will take this long to prepare it Muggle way,” said Ginny while turning to face the adjoining dining room.

“It’s not my fault that someone spent too much time trying shoes,” Hermione muttered.

Ginny heard it and talked back, “And it wasn’t me who had to be dragged out of bookshop.”

“Well, I told you that we can order take out. It’s just Harry and Ron anyway. I’m sure your brother will be happy to try some Muggle variety,” she rebuffed. If Ginny’s first reaction on take out was the indication, Ron would be more than happy about it.

“No self-respecting Weasley would serve shop-brought food to guest they invited to dinner, even if it was their own brother and ex.”

Sometimes it’s scary how Ginny managed to emulate Molly Weasley. But before Hermione could comment on that, she heard knocking from the front door. She left their conversation at that and heading to the door. A quick look on the peephole confirmed that it was their expected guests on the other side.

“Come in,” she greeted them by the door. “Did you have any problem with the direction?”

“No, it’s just Ron got side tracked at electronic shop.” Harry stepped inside, revealing Ron behind him.

This was the first time they stood face to face this close since that night at the Burrow. They did worked at the same institution, but with Hermione’s habit of coming and going at uncommon hour and that she never ventured far from her own desk, there’re very few times they’d crossed path. The closer would be one morning when they caught the same lift, but it was quite full and none tried to do anything more than stealing glance.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron smiled sheepishly.

For few seconds they just stood like that. Before thing becoming more awkward, Hermione quickly composed herself and replied, “Hey, Ron. Please come in. The dinner is almost ready, I’m sure the walk here had made you hungry,” she added while led them to dining room.

“You cook?” Harry chimed in.

Hermione shook her head. “Ginny. She didn’t even let me come close to the kitchen.”

“I can smell roasted chicken,” Ron commented. “Now I’m really hungry.”

Ginny snorted from the dining table. “You’re always hungry, Ron.” She placed the mentioned dish on it, confirming his guess, “Yup, we’ll have roasted chicken here and spaghetti Bolognese on the way. Hermione, can you take the salad from the fridge? I’ll bring the spaghetti.” She turned to Hermione, but her eyes caught on Harry’s and her smile faltered.

Uncomfortable silence filled the room as everyone was rooted in place, holding breath on what would happen next. An agonising minute later, Harry cleared his throat and raised the bag on his hand to view.

“We bring Butterbeer. Where should I put it?”

That brought out everyone from their stupefaction. Hermione caught on and took the bag from Harry’s hand. “Gin, we forgot the drinks!” she noted to Ginny, breaking her transfixion, before returned to Harry, “Thank you, Harry. You two sit down, I’ll bring the salad. Gin?” Hermione nodded to Ginny and the two women left together.

The dining table was a table for four with two chairs side by side facing the other. As if to undermine the issue that led to this dinner, Harry sat beside Ron while Hermione and Ginny sat on the opposite side with Hermione facing Harry and Ginny facing Ron. The tension was obvious as Ron didn’t devour all the meal in one go and ate slowly instead which was noticed by everyone in the room. For a room full of Gryffindors, it’s rather pathetic that nobody seemed to be brave enough to start any pleasantry. Most of what they did throughout the dinner was stealing a fleeting glance one another.

“Is there something wrong with my cooking, Ron?” It was Ginny who broke the stillness.

“No, it’s good. It’s almost as good as Mum’s.” Being singled out seems to made him more nervous, his fork missed the chicken and landed on the bell pepper instead. But since his eyes were transfixed on Ginny, he only noticed it after he chewed. He coughed and quickly reached for the glass. To cover his slip, he remarked, “Er …, I still can’t believe that you live in Muggle area, Gin. But this flat looks nice.”

But her answer was only, “Yes, I like it here.” And they fell into silent again.

Trying to salvage their chat, Hermione jumped in, “It’s cosy here. This place also has lovely neighbourhood and plenty green area for covert Apparation.”

Then it was Harry’s turn to participate. “You know, Hermione, for some reason I always imagine that you’d live in a place full of books or at least had a room dedicated as a library,” he teased, hoping that it would lift the heavy air in the room.

“Well, it’s only two bedrooms and one bathroom flat. We’re lucky that it has spacious space here so we can have separate dining room and living room,” she explained, trying to make her voice as light as possible.

Her effort to prolong their word exchange went for naught as nobody responded. It stalled again and stayed that way for another minutes until it was too late to continue talking about the flat so they had to rack their brain to find new topic.

This time, it was Harry who made a try to incite another conversation.

“Will you attend the Ministry New Year Party, Hermione? You know, you’re very lucky you managed to avoid attending the War Commemoration last time. But you will not have valid excuse to skip it as you’re ministry employee now.”

“It’s not excuse Harry, I did have NEWT to prepare,” Hermione exclaimed.” I heard it was mainly for charity, right? I’m glad that Kingsley made it as New Year celebration instead of victory celebration or another war remembrance. The wound is still too fresh and having party on the day when so many lost their loved one on that day just doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sensing that the air started to become sombre, Harry hastily threw a jape, “But still, the only one who will prefer exam than party is you, Hermione. I’m relief that I don’t need to sit through NEWT.” Turning to Ron in attempt to expand their two way conversation, he jested, “You know, Ron, if we also returned to Hogwarts, I’m sure we’d be drowned in the timetable she made for us.”

In which he succeed as Ron chortled, “So right, mate. At some point she might chained us to a chair in the library just so we won’t run from revising.”

Even Hermione chuckled hearing that. The three old friends were staring to each other with a wide smile on their lips. Nobody said anything, but everything seemed to be normal again. They didn’t notice a sad smile from the fourth person in the room.

“It’s always like this, right? You, Hermione, and Harry,” she said softly. She addressed her question to Ron, but her eyes were on Harry. “You three were always enclosed in your own circle nobody can penetrate.”

And in a blink, the calm and easy mood changed drastically to the reverse direction. Everyone tensed, holding their breath. Finally they arrived in this dreaded talk, it’s unavoidable now. But this was why they met tonight, not for casual dinner or trivial repartee.

“Ginny –,” started Harry but Ginny raised her hand to cut his sentence

“No Harry, it’s the truth. Let me finish, please,” she pleaded quietly, facing Harry directly. She inhaled deeply, keeping her self-control, before continued, “The bonds the three of you had can be very intimidating sometimes. Even when I was your girlfriend, I was still the outsider in your clique. You always go to them first and only let me in when you consider it necessary. It hurt me, Harry. It’s as if I wasn’t needed. You can’t blame me for feeling like that; for feeling hurt or for questioning myself what am I meant for you.”

Her voice remained serene the whole time and her stare never left Harry. He understood that he had to give the same courtesy. They couldn’t let this conversation ending in a shouting match.

“I’m sorry for hurting you Gin, it was never my intention. It’s just that Ron and Hermione have been my best friends for so long that it’s almost an instinct for me to turn to them. But my feeling for you is different. I love you, Gin. You know that I lost many people who I hold dear. I can’t risk losing you too.”

“It’s trust, Harry. The feelings are different, but you love Ron and Hermione too, and you let them in because you trust them.” Ginny stopped, realising that her voice had risen. She took a fortifying breath to collect herself. “By protecting me like that, it also means that you didn’t believe that I’m strong enough to be by your side. You always kept me at arm length; never want to lose me but never let me be closer as well. How selfish was that. Loving someone isn’t only about sharing happiness, it’s also about sharing burden.”

Harry was stunned. He cast down his eyes to the plate in front of Ginny, reflecting.

“But I have to apologise too,” Ginny added, earning her a surprise look from Harry. With their eyes again on each other, she elaborated, “It’s not right for me to lash out to you like that and just left without giving us chance to discuss it properly. I was being childish and selfish to want to keep you for myself. I’m sorry, Harry. It’s my fault that this had dragged on this long.”

“My biggest regret is that Hermione got caught in this mess,” she added. She turned her face to Hermione and griped Hermione’s right hand. “I should let Harry to accompany you and had this conversation after. You needed him more than me that time, but I hurt you instead and made you to endure everything alone. I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“It’s okay Gin, I understand.” Hermione nodded reassuring. She rubbed her thumb on the back of Ginny’s hand in a soothing motion. “That time, we just got caught in one unfortunate event after another. There’s really nothing we could do.”

Ginny interrupted her, “But honestly, why you never asked me to go with you? I thought that we’re friend. If you had asked me, I would happily go to Australia even if for no other reason than just to be away from the dreary atmosphere at home. I’m sure I could make Mum understand. After all, there’s nothing we could do to brought Fred back, but you still had hope to have your parents back.”

Hermione opened her mouth but before any words came out, Ron interjected. Ginny last statement had hit too close to him.

“You know, after you left I thought of going after you to Australia. But Dad couldn’t help me in arranging Portkey or Floo. Then I reached Harry, but we had no clue on how I could get the _pasfor_ with my lack of Muggle identification. We had depended too much on you Hermione, it was always you who planned for us. We’re lost without you,” he chuckled. “Hell, at that time I even thought of Apparating to Australia, but I might just end up in bloody Atlantic.”

He finally looked up to her, taking a long breath before continued.

“I often eavesdropped every time you planned your trip with Harry. I realised what an ass I was towards you, but at least you would have Harry on your side. So it hit me hard when you left alone. I knew that I should be with you from the start, I should not just ... _expect_ that someone else would be there for you.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and started to look agitated. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. For everything I did to you. I’m really the worst asshole on earth. Fuck, I couldn’t even face you when you’re back and in the end you’d have to be the one who reach me first. What a bloody dumbshite scumbag I am!”

There’s a moment of hush after that. Hermione waited for Ron to calm down before she started to speak.

“So I guess it’s my turn to apologise, right? No Gin, you can’t deny that I had my share in creating this mess, my action was the one that started this avalanche,” she rebuked her as she saw that Ginny would start protesting.

She returned to Ron again and spoke, “While it’s okay to ask for your help, it’s not okay to guilt trip you into doing it which was what I did to you, Ron and I’m sorry for that. The way I put it that day, I gave ultimatum for you to choose. Then afterward, I’ve been avoiding you as well which also prolong this. I admit that I wanted you to feel guilty, to torment you with it. But it was me unfairly directed all my anger and grief of losing my parents to you which is not right since it wasn’t your fault at all that it happened. And no Harry, don’t you dare blaming yourself,” she chided, as she’s sure Harry would voice his contrition at her statement.

“It’s not your fault that Voldemort would target me for being Muggle-born and it was my choice to modify my parents’ memory. I understood the consequences when I decided to do it, but I guess I miscalculated how hard it could be to face it in reality.” She looked at her three friends one by one, gave a pensive smile and stopped at Ron. “And now that I lost my parents, I just wish that I can have my friends back. So can we just leave the past in the past and start over?”

There’s a twinge of disappointment on his eyes for a second but it vanished just as soon as it appeared, Ron returned her smile and firmly took the offered olive branch. “Of course, Hermione. Your offer is more than what I deserve, but I’ll gladly be your friend in any way you want.”

Suddenly Ginny huffed loudly and stood up, catching everyone’s attention. All eyes followed her as she circled the table and stopped beside Harry. The others waited on what she would do next, but none of them had guessed that she would extend her hand.

“I don’t think I’m ready for relationship right now, but if you’re willing,” She opened her palm, as if encouraged him to take it. “Hey Harry Potter, my name is Ginny Weasley. Nice to meet you.”

Harry beamed, “Hey Ginny Weasley, I’m Harry Potter. It’s a pleasure to be your circle.”

He hold her hand firmly, his happiness was clearly visible in his eyes that Ginny couldn’t help but to beam in matching smile. All was well.

Ginny claps her hands, cheerily announced, “Okay, anyone wants dessert? I think there’s still some treacle tart in the fridge.” All nodded in unison and she left to get it.

Visibly more relaxed, Ron quipped, “So you guys will be at the Burrow for Christmas, right? I love Mum’s cooking, but she always cook too much. You definitely can’t expect me to finish everything myself. I’ll never be proper Auror if I’m as round as a ball.”

And they laughed at that.


	4. Encounter

Just like every other Monday night for the last three months, Draco sat on one of the visitor chair in the Minister office across the Minister of Magic himself. The door was locked and Privacy Charm was cast so nobody would be able to spy on them although there were only a handful people left in the Ministry as it was after hour already. The other person in the room was the Head Auror who’s currently inspecting his wand.

“I would appreciate it if you just ask me directly instead of surreptitiously using Legilimency on me, sir,” Draco intoned boldly, staring straight to the Minister’s eyes. “I've been given task to murder Dumbledore while living under his watch and in close proximity with Snape, both had undeniable ability in Legilimency and then literally had Dark Lord who’s also a powerful Legilimens as my house guest. Going through those experiences should’ve taught me something about Occlumency, I hope you don’t disparage my competency, sir.”

“Careful, Mr Malfoy. I will restrain from that kind of attitude if I were you, you’re not in a position to be able to do that,” Robards snarled. The scar next to his narrowed eyes made him look more menacing. No wonder he stayed at his post after the Dark Lord’s fall, he’s not someone to be trifle with.

Shacklebolt gave out a different reaction, he laughed. “Very well,” he nodded approvingly. “Find something interesting, Robards?”

“No, just couple of defence spells and trivial other. But we don’t know whether he can perform wandless magic or not,” answered Robards. He held out the thin stick to Draco which he took with a curt nod.

“I have to say I’m impressed that you survive three months of Auror training without ever using offensive spell, Mr Malfoy,” remarked Shacklebolt. “So, do you have anything you want to tell us about your weekend?”

Draco let out a long sigh. He could sense that today meeting would be longer than usual. “As I understand, my stipulation was that I’m not allowed to Apparate nor to use any other magical means to go anywhere except the Floo which is only connected to this building. If I ever dare to cross even one step away from the manor, I’m sure you’ll be the first person to know, sir.”

He managed to keep his voice as stoic as possible but he knew that the insolent attitude implied in his answer would irate the two men in front of him. Even without seeing it as his eyes was focus on Shacklebolt, Draco could sense that Robards was throwing him an incredulous stare, clearly felt affronted. But the Minister of Magic remained passive.

“Mr Malfoy, believe me I’m not trying to trap you to Azkaban, so you better tone down your animosity,” Shacklebolt reproached him. “I trust Minerva’s judgement. If she decided to follow through with Snape’s wish in acquitting you, then she must have seen something worth saving in you. If it’s not for them you won’t be here now, so prove it that they’re not making mistake.”

“Then why don’t you be frank, sir? Ask me directly because I don’t understand what you’re insinuating here.”

The two older men were obviously taken aback by his rebuttal, but they recovered immediately. Shacklebolt exchanged glance with Robards, one eyebrow rose asking for opinion which was answered by a shook of his head, signing his disapproval. He reclined on his seat and pondered what he could tell.

“Your father gave information that there’s a plan to regain power by some escaping Death Eater. Do you know anything about it?” he queried without giving up much information.

Draco shook his head. “No. I haven’t had any communication from my father since the trial,” he replied in even tone. “I might have been marked but I was a kid back then and it was more of punishment for my father. Nobody took me seriously to tell me anything important. You’ll get more luck with my father than me.”

The former Auror and the head Auror observed him carefully, trying to find any sign of him lying but the young man demeanour didn’t betray anything.

“What do you know about Rookwood?” It was Robards who asked.

Draco shifted his gaze to Robards. “What is he in this?”

“We’re the one doing the asking, Mr Malfoy.”

He knew how to pick his battle, so he went through his head for any memory before gave his answer. “Not much. He was working in the Department of Mystery before his time in Azkaban, right? I only met him once in the manor three years ago but we just passing each other in the corridor and that was it. I don’t remember my parents or anyone at all talking about him except on the papers reporting prison break.”

Draco watched the two wizards in front of him warily, the way they communicating silently with their eyes had unnerved him.

“Is there anything I should know, sir?” He couldn’t help but to voice it. “I’m not stupid. If there really is a new movement in motion, there’s no question that I’ll be their target either for revenge or to recruit me even though I’m sure it would be more of blackmailing me into doing what they want me to do.”

Robards looked tense, but Shacklebolt remained impassive. Then suddenly it clicked in Draco’s mind. “You plan to use me as a bait,” he stated scathingly. “If I have to put my neck on the line, I sure hope there’s adequate protection in place as well.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Shacklebolt said calmly. “You don’t believe that I would approve your choice in Auror office – and becoming an Auror on top of that – as your voluntary service without knowing your reason, right? I’m just making sure that both of us will receive benefit from this _arrangement_.”

Draco really didn’t expect this response and as he didn't school his features quick enough at his statement, the Minister knew that he got him. He realised that the current Minister of Magic was a true mastermind, not a puppet politician like his predecessor, he had to treat this carefully.

He released a breath in defeat. “What should I do?”

At least the Minister only threw him a smirk instead of full laugh in mocking victory.

“Let them make the first move. You must report to me or Robards immediately if they contact you, no need to wait for this meeting. Then we’ll go from there,” he instructed him flatly.”And I’m sure you know how to be discreet, Mr Malfoy.”

“Am I allowed to defend myself if thing turn worse?”

“Well, according to Wizengamot you still have two more years of magic restriction,” Shacklebolt shrugged nonchalantly. “But our Auror training programme was famous to be one of the harshest and since you’ve managed to survive until now without offensive spell, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Mr Minister,” said Draco, dripping with sarcasm.

But the Minister wasn’t deterred. “Good evening, Mr Malfoy. See you next Monday.”

He was being dismissed. He didn’t hesitate to get up from his chair when he felt that the Privacy and Locking Charm had been lifted. Usually he would offer a small bow or a ‘goodnight’ just to be polite, this man was Minister of Magic after all, but not tonight. Decorum be damned, he had more important thing to think.

Just a second before the door closed behind his back and the Privacy Charm was activated again, he could hear Robards’s gruff voice from inside the room, “The boy is good, but he’s a bit difficult. If we can bring him to our side, he’ll be a valuable asset.”

He might as well stay and tried to gather more information. When the Minister of Magic went directly to the Head Auror without involving the Head of Department, it must be for something very important and confidential. But he knew that it would be unwise to do, the Privacy Charm was very strong and he wasn’t sure he could break it without them noticing and it would only lead to another discord with the people inside. It was still too early in the game, he have time. He wasn’t his former confused teenager anymore. If the last turmoil taught him something, it was that he needed to take his time to observe, then he could plan far ahead after taking every point into consideration in every step. Nothing should be rushed.

Instead of heading to the lift, he went to the opposite direction of the corridor which leading to the staircase to the lower level. Next to it was a shabby chestnut door with a small plague of ‘Storeroom’ hanging above it. He reached the handle and opened it slightly then closed it again, repeated the same action three more times before opening the door completely.

What he found beyond the door wasn’t line of cabinets full of stationary or shelves of old documents, but it was another staircase. It only had ten steps leading up and at the end of it was a bronze door with intricate lock. Draco tapped his wand to the lock and the door opened. Once he passed the door, it turned into a man-size cupboard.

It was an open space with view to the four directions and was defined by balustrade. A grass lawn covered most of its surface and greeneries decorating its corners, several wooden benches placed on each side. He chose the one on the left which was protected in the shadow and lay down there, eyes to the sky.

The enchantment around this place blocked the sound from the crowd below, but sadly it wasn’t working with the light so he could only see darkness and no star up there. He didn’t really mind, he only needed a quite place of solitude anyway. This place would do, better than the manor.

Since Tom Riddle had resided there, that place stopped becoming his home. Instead of feeling welcome, he felt suffocated every time he stepped inside. The transgression that had been done there had tainted the place beyond measure. He couldn’t stay there, but he couldn’t leave either. However, this place was technically still part of Ministry building so he didn’t really break the conditions of his probation. He really didn’t need any additional problem.

In another time, he might be able to think little of his current situation. How thing could be very different between overseeing the Tides and riding it. For one thing, previously he had wider outlook so for any Ripple he had seen, he would always knew every sequence that would happen and what he should do to maintain the damage, but now he barely had any viewpoint to see anything. Should he just rode along or maybe tried to wade through it? And with the knowledge he had from his past life, how far he could act without inflicting too much Ripples?

Of course no matter what happened, the Passage of Time would always flow to its proper course. Still there had always been some repercussions and he didn’t want to risk it. There’s really no need to tempt Fate, he already had done enough by his choice to stay. But then sometimes he wondered whether he really had been allowed to choose back then or it was always how it had been fated to be from the beginning, right from the moment of their first encounter?

A sudden clicked of door being unlocked broke his thought. He watched the cupboard door cautiously but didn’t move from his position. This past two months since he found this place, there was never be any intrusion and as far as he knew this place was not known by most of Ministry staff. And it was late enough so the building should be almost empty from occupants.

Just from the sound of that soft gasp he could tell whose it belong to, even in this dimly lit place where he could only see her silhouette. Without a doubt, if there’s someone who could always find his hideout, it would be her. Or maybe this was what she had meant when she promised that he would find her, she really didn’t give him any chance to search.

“Are you making a habit of invading my sanctuary, Granger?” he drawled, managed to cover the delight in his voice.

With a reflex of someone who’s been involved in several life and death duels, she spun around and had her wand pointed to him in less than a second, defensive spell ready on the tip of her tongue in a duelling position. Nonchalantly and in complete ease as a cat who’d just woken up from his nap, Draco got up and sat indolently, unruffled by the wand directed at him.

“Good evening, Granger.”

“Malfoy?” Granger spluttered, eyes wide. She regained her wit and lowering her wand. “What are you doing here?”

He threw her a smirk. “I was here first, Granger. I should be the one who said that,” he tutted. “So, what are you doing here?”

Looking affronted, Granger lifted her chin in defiance and gave him a challenging look, but Draco didn’t relent from his stance. It stayed that way for another minutes until Granger yield and sighed, “I found this old manuscript in the Archive mentioning about a place called the Balcony so I investigate a bit.”

“Granger and old book, why am I not surprised?”

She wandered to the edge, peeking beyond the balustrade. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Malfoy. I know you read as much as I do. And I bet you know about this place from the same manuscript as well,” she scoffed.

She’s right, but Draco would not admit it. “Never bet with a Slytherin, Granger. And another advice while I’m being generous, stop poking around to unknown place late at night alone. This is not Hogwarts. That Gryffindor tendency of yours will get you killed someday.”

“Merlin! Did I just hear concern in your voice, Malfoy?” she teased, turning to face him. “I might even think that you care about me.”

He was caught off guard by her unexpected comeback. He quickly schooled back his expression, but Granger had seen his flustered face. And she laughed.

She laughed, in the way that he’d always remembered. It started with mirth in her eyes, then the right corner of her lips lifted, followed by a short soft chuckle and a brisk sound would come out from that lovely mouth. Then she would lift her left hand, clenched it in a loose fist and put it on the tip of her nose in order to cover her mouth until her laugh subsided. He had missed it so much.

“My. Didn’t your friend ever joke with you, Malfoy?” she said playfully.

He scowled, “Slytherin has different value than Gryffindor, Granger.”

“Yeah, like blood purity you mean,” she retorted offhandedly. That quickly erased the scowl from his face but before he could refute, she continued, “Anyway, are we really on the rooftop of the Banqueting House?” Her eyes roaming to the scenery around her, but the light from the street below only creating more contrast to the darkness so there’s nothing much to see.

Draco stood up and joining her, few steps from the edge. “We are. If you’re here during the day, you can see the Abbey there and St. James’s Park over there,” he explained while pointing to the other direction. “But not Thames, it was blocked by this building,” he added, pointing the building behind him with his thumb.

The way her eyes sparked might as well lit up this rooftop. “Really?!” Granger squeaked, excited.

“Yes, the lake looks beautiful from here on sunset,” he confirmed, leaning on his side on the balustrade and turning to stare the darkness in the distance. “I wonder how the park will look like in spring,” he mused quietly.

She followed his stare. “I’d like to see it too,” she whispered wishfully. “I read that before the Atrium was built, we used to hold the banquet or any ministry party in one the room here. How nice is it if we could do it again. I’ve been in this building once when I was kid, the ceiling is very beautiful,” she exclaimed with wide smile plastered in her face.

He sneered, “Don’t you see how crowded the road below, Granger? Instead of having party, my department will be busy enforcing Statue of Secrecy.”

“I know,” she chuckled. “Who would have thought that the Ministry of Magic Headquarter is connected directly to a Muggle building. This was an interesting enchantment they did it here. No wonder this building was the only surviving building when the Whitehall Palace was burned down in 1698. It’s make sense if this building was protected by magic.”

Just like their study session in Hogwarts, their conversation was never long. Both had their gaze on the hustle and bustle of the capital city in comfortable silence. It was a typical warm November night in London as daylight start to diminish each day. If it’s not for the enchantment around, there would be various sounds be heard from the crowd below.

Draco stole a glance at the brunette girl beside him. She looked happier and more relaxed than the last time he saw her at Hogwarts. Come spring she had stopped coming to their table in the library. At first he had worried that it was because of his brash and thoughtless action, but being that close to her after so long he just couldn’t contain himself. Then as he saw her with the Weasley girl often, he could breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t make a big mess with his action. And if what he had gathered from her other two friends’ behaviour in the past few days, it seemed that she had reconciled with them as well. So here he was, back to observing on the sideline. Not that he’s happy with it, but he had promised her that he would wait after all.

“How are you doing, Malfoy?” Her eyes were still on the spectacle of light of the night.

He shrugged. “Fine,” he replied briefly.

She swivelled to face him, leaning on the balustrade. “I heard that you’re joining Auror Office. Are they ... How’s your training? Someone told me that it can be very harsh sometimes.”

He gave her another short answer. “Nothing that I can’t handle.”

He knew that she meant to ask how his co-worker treated him so he appreciated that she only nodded in understanding and didn’t push further. As an ex-Death Eater, joining the Law Enforcement surely was a very bold move and seemed unwise. But in his current circumstance, this was the best course of action he could make.

“Well, it’s rather late and I still have some works to do so I better back to my desk,” she announced and he nodded in respond. “I think I’ll come back here again tomorrow, on daylight, to see if you’re telling the truth or not.”

He rolled his eyes at her last comment. “Just don’t tell anyone about this place, especially your Gryffindor duo.”

“Of course. I also will need a hiding place anyway.” She peered at him through her eyelash, suddenly looked uncertain. “Only if you don’t mind to share with me, _again_.”

Draco tried his hardest not to grin and gave her an appraising look instead. “Well, you weren’t that bad back then so I guess I don’t really mind.”

And for the second time this night, he was graced with her radiant smile.

\---***---

_It was unusual for him to venture far from his grove, but he felt some kind of pull when he saw a dash of startling light in the sky and so he followed it. He didn’t have any destination in mind, only following the tugging feeling that kept calling him. Until he arrived in a clearing._

_There’s was a pond in the middle, gleaming with vibrant variant of hue, without any drift in its surface. A steady splash at its centre forming a fountain of colourful light, swirling and twirling, undulated above the pond resembling a large peony. Then instead of falling back into the pond, it coalesced together into one constant stream and spiralling upward around a poplar tree at its shore. Although he had never been in this place, he knew what this was. This was the Stream._

_And he saw her, there under the tree. Initially he thought that she was Victa, the Almitas. On a second look he realised that unlike the High Priests, her hair was wavy golden amber. It was the luminous light around her that made it glowed silvery. But from the way she held herself – confidently waving her hand through the flowing light then intently observed how it recovered back to its course – he knew that she wasn’t a common inhabitant._

_“Did you see? No matter what I did, it will always return to its course. So if I interfere, will it create a significant disturbance?”Her serene voice broke the tranquil of the place, her back still on him._

_“It wasn’t about whether it was allowed or not, but more about being careful; mitigating the impact and anticipating its repercussion,” he answered in aloof tone, walking to the tree._

_When she finally faced him, a smile had appeared on her face. Seeing her this close, he knew for sure that she’s different._

_“You must be the Intueor. Phiero often talk about you.” She tilted her head in deference briefly. “Is that how you do it when you’re looking on the Tide?”_

_“Yes. Because unlike what you just did, any Ripple can magnify and even if it can reinstate itself, it may become ... unfortunate. You should never play in the Passage of Time, there is reason why there are rules and orders. Even though I guess the Praevians will have different opinion,” he added haughtily._

_It started with short soft chuckle then a brisk sound was heard from her mouth. It surprised him, he had never heard a sound like that, it’s lively. He didn’t realise that he just stared at her, entranced. _

_But she noticed so she lifted her loosely fisted hand to the tip of her nose, tried to cover her mouth.”I’m sorry,” she chuckled. She took a breath to compose herself. “Yes, I know. His laid-back attitude can be very frustrating sometimes.”_

_“You’re a Pillar.” It was a statement that didn’t need a confirmation. But it hadn’t answered his inquisitiveness yet._

_She caught his quizzical look. “You’re wondering about me,” she said in understanding. She shifted her gaze to the tree and caressed its bark with a great care. “I came from this tree. The Almitas turned me and not only she had let me stayed, she had bestowed the honour of being the Praeses on me. So here I’ll always be.”_

_He looked to the tree in deep thought and uttered, “Amber.”_

_They shifted their gaze almost at the same time and stared to one another, sharing a look._

_“Yes, I am,” she whispered with genial glow in her eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the Banqueting House does exist in Whitehall, London. Any guess what the building that blocking the view to Thames is?


	5. Problem

These last three days was nightmare for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Three days ago, there was report of Pixie outbreak in Durham. The Beast Division had sent their troop immediately, but it turned out to be worse than what they expected.

Nobody could explain how a large population of Pixie suddenly appeared in Durham and wreaking havoc just a mile from a Muggle village, but on the second day almost everyone in the division had been deployed to Durham. However, by evening instead of subduing those creatures, the situation had spiralled out of control in which several of Muggles in the nearby village got involved in the mess. So distress call was sent and other divisions in the department had sent their personnel as well (except the Goblin Liaison Office, of course, because they’re _very busy_).

Being one of few who’s still in the office that late evening, Hermione had been among the first reinforcement been sent to Durham. If it’s not because of the severity of the situation, what she had seen when she arrived was almost funny.

Furniture was scattered outside houses, lying upturned with bits of scorch marks in some places, debris were everywhere. Couple of grown up wizards were hanging in the air by their ear while small blue wingless creatures giggling mischievously, buzzing to every random direction. Freezing Hex was thrown to every direction – few had accidentally hit other officer as the targeted Pixies managed to dodge it, and what looked like 9 Muggles huddled together in strange position – unconscious (must likely had been stunned, but at least someone had remembered to put wards around them to protect them from strayed hexes or Pixies). It was such a strange battleground.

It took almost 10 hours after the second reinforcement arrival that everything was under control and another 5 hours for repairing the damage, ‘taking care’ the Muggles, and securing the captured Pixies. By the end of it, many couldn’t even stand so several Portkeys were arranged for them to return to the Ministry as Apparation was deemed unsafe.

Hermione shared a Portkey with 4 staffs from Spirit Division, three who then went directly to the fireplace to Floo home. It was already past lunch but maybe there’s still some edible food in the canteen, so Hermione followed her trip companion there before heading back to her office. There would be only Ronan there as she knew that her other 3 colleagues were still in Durham helping the Office of Misinformation staffs doing some damage control.

‘That bad, huh?” Ronan greeted her, looking amusedly at her battered appearance.

“You have no idea! Gods, I’m completely knackered.” She slumped to her chair. That was when she realised the third person in this tiny office. “Ron? What are you doing here?”

Sensing that there would be a private conversation coming, Ronan stood up. “I’m going to fill up my tea. Do you need anything, Hermione?”

“A cup of coffee would be great if you don’t mind. Please?”

He turned to Ron who shook his head in negative, then he left the two young fellows to their own devices.

“I’m fetching you for lunch,” answered Ron for her earlier question.

Hermione gasped. “I’m sorry, I forgot,” she lamented. “I had sandwich on the way here and I think I’m too tired to go down again. Did you wait long?”

He shrugged noncommittally, “Not really. Want me to take you home if you’re tired?”

“It’s okay,” she declined. “I still have some for to do, just a vial of Invigoration Draught and I’ll be fine.”

However, her answered didn’t assuage him as he watched her warily, fidgeting. “Err ... Are you ... Are you trying to avoid me again?”

“What make you think like that?”

“Because you seem to always evade if it was just you and me, without Harry or Ginny.”

She groaned. She was really tired; she hadn’t had sleep or shower or even proper meal in more than 30 hours. She wasn’t sure she still had anything left in here not to blow up, but she managed.

“Ron,” she started, relieved that she sounded calm. “It was you who cancelled our last plan. If you remember, I knew from the start that I agreed to go for a drink with only you and no Harry.”

“But there was an attack and I was called in for back up!” he wailed.

“I know. Just like what I had now. As you can see, I’m working, Ron!” She finally snapped.

Her outburst made him realised his misstep. “I’m sorry, Hermione. It just ... I want us back to be like we were before,” he muttered.

Hermione sighed, “We’re not at school anymore, Ron. We have our own responsibility now, so things will never be same as before.”

They stared at each other. “Tomorrow?” asked Ron tentatively.

“I don’t know, Ron. Let’s exchange memo tomorrow to see if it possible or not.”

Ron nodded, but he still looked at her in worry. “You sure you’re okay? I think you need a break, Hermione.”

“No, I’m fine.” She took out a sandwich and an orange vial from her bag. “See, I have my lunch and after I drink this I’ll be fine.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but then decided against it. “If you say so,” he conceded. “I’ll get going then. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you memo.”

And he left, passing Ronan by the door. From the smug look in Ronan’s face, Hermione could guess what would coming.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh to your boyfriend, Hermione,” he teased.

“He’s not my boyfriend, just like Harry wasn’t my boyfriend as well.” She dipped her head in thanks when he put a steamy cup in front of her.

“But this lad seems to harbour feeling for you,” he continued.

Hermione ignored him, she reached her cup instead and frown when noticing its content. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yup. Drink it and why don’t you go home after that? You look like a mess, Hermione.”

“Well, thank you for the compliment, Ronan,” she remarked sarcastically. “I’d love to go home but I haven’t finished the documents for the Wilkes visitation tomorrow.”

“What happen?”

“Nothing, just monthly inspection. It should be Martin’s, but he said he had something to do tomorrow – parents stuff – so I offered to cover for him. Who know that he hasn’t prepared anything yet.”

Ronan nodded in understanding. “He usually prepares it on the fly, he did it dozens times already so he know what he’s doing.”

“I’m sorry to say this, but that’s why they just couldn’t care less about the Guideline. We need to change that and it starts from paperwork,” she explained assertively.

Hermione could sense that Ronan wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. Instead he spoke, “Well then. If you’ll end up working overtime, at least take some nap first. I’m pretty sure the Wilkes won’t take you seriously if you appear on their doorstep looking like Inferi. Go to staff lounge, nobody there when I got tea.”

She didn’t think napping was necessary, but it wouldn’t hurt to rest her back on the comfy couch for few minutes. One of the perk of sharing a division with the Goblin Liason, which not only dealing with Goblin relation but also – more or less – taking care wizarding economy, was that they had the best staff lounge in the ministry (even better than the one in the first level which was used by high ranking employee). It was rather spacious with couple of fluffy settee, various beverages and snacks always available – which taste so much better than the one served at the ministry canteen.

“Okay. I’ll be back in 30 minutes,” she said as she stood up and heading to the door with her chocolate on hand. However as she passed the door, she remembered that there was somewhere else more secluded she could go so she turned to the lift and headed to the Level 1 instead. And as she expected, she found no one when she arrived on the Balcony.

Since she discovered this place, she had returned several times. The view was indeed remarkable during the day just like Malfoy had said and she told him that later on when she had met him as she had another late night stroll on that rooftop three days later. In the past five weeks, she noted that she never met him if she came during the day, but he was always there at night. Which was rather strange as if he had been hiding to find solitude while in the Ministry, why it was at night when almost everybody already went home. Well, it’s not that she came here every day anyway so it could also be that he was up here during the day when she wasn’t.

It was already December, but in no way London would be as cold as Scotland so it was relatively warm compared to Hogwarts ground. The enchantment around the rooftop had not only blocking the sound but apparently also mitigated the unsavoury part of London’s weather, so the warmth of the sun was gone through but not the chill of this morning rain.

Hermione didn’t wear her coat, but it’s comfortable enough to bash under the afternoon sun without Warming Charm. It was very pleasant and relaxing that she started to doze off, fallen asleep in her sitting position on the bench.

She returned to consciousness ensconced by a warm feeling and soothing smell around her, like a fresh cut grass after the rain. Still half asleep, she stirred and with her fuzzy brain she noticed that she was laying on the bench which was too soft for a wooden bench. She opened her eyes and sat up, making the dark coloured cloak that was blanketing her fell to the floor. It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust as it was already dark with only ambient light from other buildings and street below.

A slight movement made her alert immediately. And there he was, the person with a very distinct hair colour reading leisurely on nearby bench.

“Malfoy,” she acknowledged him, picking the cloak from the floor. Aside from the Cushioning Charm on the bench, she could sense Warming Charm had been added to the cloak as well.

He closed his book and flicked his wand to douse the light. “It must be very bad in Durham to knock you out like that, Granger. You slept like death,” he gibed.

Several questions emerged in her mind; _Did you do this? How long you’ve been here?_, but instead she said, “Worse. From the damage you would have thought that dark wizard was behind it and Auror would be called. But if you’re lucky, your department will not be involved because my hunch told me it was only a-would-be-Christmas-prank gone wrong.”

Malfoy scoffed at her comment and the air around them had lightened. When she wanted to voice her intended question, a loud ‘pop’ sound followed by sudden appearance of a small creature had interrupted them.

Without any delay, he wailed, “Master, young –.”

“Pippin!” Malfoy barked, stop him from saying anything else.

The Elf’s eyes got even wider and he soon realised his mistake, his whole body’s shaking. “Pippin is sorry, Master. Pippin –.” Again, he was cut off.

“You still have House-Elf, Malfoy?” Her voice was sharp, eyes piercing to Malfoy. “I don’t remember seeing your name in my list,” she remarked, there was accusing tone in her sentence.

Malfoy groaned exasperatedly. “Granger, can we not talk about your House-Elf liberation movement now?”

Before Hermione could retort, clearly the word ‘liberation’ was caught by the Elf as he then cried, “No, Master. Master Draco is not make Pippin leave. Pippin bound to Master!”

Hermione was torn between confronting Malfoy on that statement or pacifying the distraught elf, but Malfoy had taken control of situation.

“I know, Pippin. But now you go, I’ll be there in minutes,” he ordered firmly, appeased the Elf. He bowed and disapparated. Malfoy turned, ready to dash to the door, but Hermione was standing in his way.

With her hands on her hip and in authoritative tone, she demanded, “I’m speaking as Ministry official. Why your name isn’t in the Household List, Mr Malfoy?”

“Because he’s a free-Elf, so technically I don’t own him, _Ms Granger_,” he snarled back, irritated.

She didn’t foresee that answer. “What you mean he’s free, he clearly said he’s bound to you. What did you do to him?”

“Listen Granger, I have no time for this, I really need to go now. But know this, I don’t break any law so you better not make any fuss about this.”

Somehow during their strife, Malfoy had manoeuvred his position to the door and without another word, he made haste exit.

“Malfoy!” She chased him, but he certainly had more advantage with his long legs. By the time Hermione crossed the storeroom door and arrived in Level 1 corridor, he already disappeared in the lift.

Still fuming, she took another lift to Level 4. It’s already late and she still had work to do so she decided that she would interrogate him in another time, he’s working in the same building anyway.

“Ah, there you are. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” Ronan greeted her right in front of the lift.

“You told me to get some nap, so I found some secluded place to nap.”

“Yeah, the receptionist record showed you haven’t left the building, but you’re not in lounge either. Hey, whose that?” he added, pointing to her hand.

She looked down on her hand and realised that amidst the previous commotion, she’s still clutching Malfoy’s cloak. “No one,” she brushed it off. “Why you’re looking for me?”

“Elias Baldwin just came. He requests you to help investigating the last Pixies incident. Erskine wants this case to be closed before Christmas but they lack people as most of his men were indisposed now dealing with the damage. So you’ll be with them until the case is closed or until they don’t need you anymore, whichever come first.”

“What?! But what about the Wilkes visit tomorrow?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ronan assured her. “Just go home now. You’re expected to be in Durham tomorrow morning before 9. The formal note is in your desk.”

***

When he emerged from the fireplace, Draco could sense the presence of other person in his parlour. It’s familiar, he recognised it, so he took his time to brush ash from his shoulder and strolled leisurely to the beverage cabinet where they stored aperitifs and other social lubricants to serve guests.

“When did you lose your manner, Nott? Don’t you know that it’s impolite to enter someone else’s house without permission when the owner wasn’t around,” he spoke, rummaging for a bottle of Sherry. He knew it’s dangerous to leave his back open like that, but the best way to deal with this guest for now was to act nonchalant.

“You have shitty wards, Malfoy,” the young Nott replied, reclining his back on the couch. “Considering that I was blocked from your Floo, imagine my surprise when I can easily Apparated on your ground and simple spell to open your door. You basically tell everyone to enter as they pleased.”

“Well, what do you expect from our revered ministry? Everyone should be able to come and go to my house but me.” At least the wards in the manor still strong enough, even the ministry hadn’t able to tweak it, so nobody without Malfoy blood could Apparate directly into the manor. It would spare him some time if someone indeed came for him.

“Did they know that they make you a sitting duck in your own home?” queried Theo, his brows were drawn together in a frown as he watched Draco walked toward him. “Ah, I see. This is why you joined Auror. The one who’s targeting you will think twice before attacking you and at the same time the ministry will be suspicious of you so they’ll watch you closely, indirectly protecting you. Very clever, Malfoy.”

Draco was impressed by Theo’s conjecture, yet he didn’t show it. After all, that ability was expected from a Slytherin. He wondered who else could guess his reason correctly, but it’s not that he tried to be surreptitious anyway. If only Theo knew that one of the conditions of his probation was the restriction of his magic, he would see why he would need any leverage he could get. Fortunately, the details of his probation wasn’t made public, so not many noticed how vulnerable he was.

In an ease movement he had refined for years under his mother’s watchful eyes, he sat on one of the armchair and poured the beverage to the glass, playing a host to his former classmate.

“Sherry?” Theo commented, one eyebrow raised.

“You have to make prior arrangement if you want tea, Nott. And you’re not getting drunk here,” replied Draco in deadpanned tone.

Theo laughed, clapping his hands. “Oh, how the mighty Malfoy has fallen. And not even a single House-Elf on service.”

But Draco weren’t having it. “What are you doing here, Nott?” he demanded irritably.

“We’ve been roommate for 7 years, Malfoy. Surely it counts something.”

“Cut the crap, Nott! What do you want? It’s been over one year and you just come now? You’re here because you need something from me.”

Theo’s expression might not betray anything, but he caught his left foot tapping on the floor, a sure sign that he was nervous. In the past, there’s only one thing that could make the quiet Nott heir acted like that.

“They’re back and they’ve reached you.” It was a statement more than a question. And he hit the spot because suddenly Nott became agitated.

“They threaten me, Malfoy!” he broke down his charade. “Just when my father is finally dead and I had my life in my own hand ... I want nothing to do with this. Just look where it brought you. I’m not that stupid to get involved in this mess.”

“And you think you’ll get my help by insulting me?” Draco scoffed. “Why don’t just go to the ministry and report it?”

“You kidding! You work with them so you know what they’ll do. I’m the son of a known Death Eater, they’ll suspect me and just throw me to Azkaban instead. But you, you know me, we’re in the same boat, and you’re an Auror.”

“I’m still in training, Nott,” Draco stated, calmly sipping his drink. “I have nothing to offer you. My suggestion is to leave the country, just like Goyle or the Parkinsons. Or maybe visit Zabini in Italy?”

“And losing everything?” he said scathingly. “My _dear_ father intentionally didn’t write any will to put me in short leash and then he died like that. You know as well as I do how the old estate works, Malfoy. I have no access to Nott Estate until I’m 21 and I’ll lose any claim on it once I leave the country. That’s my right and I didn’t suffer 18 years of my life under my father only to lose it. Just two years, then I’ll pack and leave this country.”

“I still don’t see why you come to me.”

“You have inside access to the authority. I don’t know how you do it, but seeing as they let you take a post as Auror, you must have something in your hand,” Theo deducted, his stare was piercing and hands clapped on his knee. “Please, Draco.”

Slytherin generally didn’t ask for help, mostly for pride and partly because it put them in weaker position prone to be exploited. They simply did everything on their own or manipulated other to do their bid, but never asking more so begging. Theodore Nott must be very desperate to ask him blatantly like this.

“And how do I know that you didn’t trap me into _this mess_ instead. I’m barely managed to dodge Azkaban Nott, why should I stake my neck for you? What do I get from this?” Draco asked casually, staring at his nails as though there’s something interesting stuck there.

“I’ll do the Oath, I’ll owe you Life Debt. I know you Draco, and I prefer to trust you with my life more than them.”

Draco lifted his glass to his lip and took a dainty sip of it, merely to have something to do.

“Who?”

“Pucey.”

“Adrian?”

“No, his cousin. He was 5 years above us at Hogwarts. There were three more, but I don’t know them.”

Silence descended again between them. Draco took two sips of his Sherry, Theo’s remained untouched. The next sound was of the glass bump with the wooden table. Looking straight to Theo’s eyes to show that he’s the one with the power in this trade, he spoke, “Let me think about it. I’ll owl you in few days.”

“Don’t. They’re watching me, they’ll know. I have an appointment in the ministry for some import permit on Monday, can you arrange us to meet somewhere there?”

It was four days away, but he would only have tomorrow to think about how he would deal with this _and_ how he’d present it to Shacklebolt. Being the one in between, he had to make sure that he had some leeway in this arrangement.

“Okay. And you know I need to tell them something about your visit today, right?”

“Just tell them it’s a friendly visit or whatever you want.” Having said his piece on his purpose of this visit, he stood up to leave. “Listen Draco, think this carefully. Sooner or later, _they_ will get you as well. If it come to that, it will be better if you have an ally to watch your back.”

Draco kept his expression blank, only slight movement of his eyebrows to indicate that he heard him but remained to look unflappable. He raised his hand directed to the door, still sitting on his armchair. Theo just gave him a nod and then he left.

For the next hour he didn’t move from his place, his brain working furiously through every option available. With some Death Eater still on the run, he never doubted that something like this would happen, his conversation with Shacklebolt last month had only confirmed it. Only that he didn’t expect things would progress this fast.

This was different from Tom Riddle first downfall. Back then his followers who had managed to get away from Azkaban had used everything they had to reintegrate to the society again, supported by corrupted government. There was resentment, but if Tom Riddle hadn’t returned from death they’re unlikely to pull off any frontal uprising, there’s too much to lose. But now they stayed low in hiding, with nothing at stake and there’s no way to avoid punishment. When they resurfaced, they’re out for revenge.

And it was different for him too because he was of age now and no family around him to dictate what he should do, he could decide where he would stand in this upcoming clash. He knew where he wanted to be, but he’s not sure how far he could be involved in this. The last time he got in more than he supposed to, the result wasn’t really good. It was during his fifth year at Hogwarts, the memory’s still fresh in his mind and he had learnt his lesson from that one occasion.

He had realised that subtle warning would never work for Granger and she would only charge further ahead if he tried to scare her off, so he had tried more direct approach. He had seen in his Vision that she would get hurt in Department of Mystery and thinking of protecting her from danger, his younger mind had decided to prevent her departure. Only to bring the worse result.

That was part of her Trial. The event must have happened so she still got away, his action only delayed the inevitable – with consequences. Someone had died and her wound was worse than what he’d seen in his Vision. So much of his talk about interference and it’s repercussion in his past life, he had disrupted the flow in the Passage of Time and it’s rather damaging.

However, letting himself been drifted by the Tide hadn’t brought better result, he had only become a pawn in someone else’s game, not that he had much choice back then. But now he had options; he could be a pawn like before or he would be in control of his own action – and preferably people around him as well.

That time when she had been brought down to his house, he never _See _it coming. In his desperation to protect her, he reached to their connection to shield her mind. Of course he had been wary of the consequences of his action, but he just couldn’t see her brilliant mind broke down. Luckily, nothing bad happened afterward. So it seemed if he didn’t use his ability and knowledge from his past life to change the course of Time, everything would be fine.

His privilege to keep his memory and Gift as High Council when he was born as human was not common. To use it as human, he had broken the rules and naturally it would create a Ripple. It’s not that he was still able to deliberately See anything, the last time he still could do it was when he was 10 years old and after that it he only got random Vision which it’s occurrence gradually decreased over time and he hadn’t had any in almost two years. But if he did, as long as he didn’t use it, maybe it should be okay. He would be doing what other human normally did and used the resources he had as human. If this was his Trial, he needed to have an active part in it, right.

“Pippin!” Having made his decision, he called the Elf. As far as the Ministry concerned, the Malfoy no longer own any House-Elf so they didn’t bother to monitor Elf Apparation in the Manor. Still he was being careful by instructing Pippin not to do any magic in his house without his order, just to be sure that if the Ministry wanted to cross check the records won’t contradict with his wand.

The creature appeared in front of him with a wary look, almost like getting ready to punish himself likely for what had happened in the Balcony.

Draco sighed, “It’s okay. I did instruct you to notify me immediately if someone breach in while I’m at the Balcony. But next time, make sure that I was alone before you show yourself or give me a tug and wait until I order you to show up.”

“Pippin’s understand, Master. Pippin will not do it again,” he said gratefully. “Is there anything Master need?”

“Yes. Listen carefully, you have to do it exactly as I said.”


	6. Friends

Christmas Eve at the Burrow had always be a scene of a festive evening. The presence of seven children was a guarantee that there’d be no quiet moment through. Even when the older sons left the nest to lead their own life, the gaiety hadn’t subsided. But it was different when one son has gone forever, especially since the said son was half of the source of the merriment and he took the joy from the other half with him. Almost two years after Fred’s death, the Weasleys were still trying to return the normalcy in their family gathering. Though it was a permanent scar that they should learn to live with.

Arriving late, the kitchen was already crowded with Fleur and Ginny helping Mrs Weasley so Hermione was relegated to help prepare the table with the boys. They would dine outside. It was clear night, the temperature was warm this week and there’s no snow. Bill and Charlie was casting several enchantment around the backyard to make it more comfortable – both had made sure to be home for Christmas this last two years – while the rest dealing with moving table and the utensils outside.

Hermione landed the last crockery onto the large dining table with a sway of her wand. She threw her gaze around the table, double checking that everything was in place, and nodded appreciatively at the sight.

“You know, there’s a bet in DMLE that the case will stretch out until after New Year and Hickman will finally beg DMLE for assistant.” Harry laid two big bowls of salad on each side of the table.

“Well, it was really a chaos there,” she commented, adjusting the spoon next to the plate in front of her. “Imagine, we were told to close the case in less than three weeks and three days into investigation, three quarter of Pixies we captured had disappeared. Really, by that point we’re so desperate. None of us want to deal with another incident in another village.”

“Thus you didn’t even have time to send message to any of us.” Ron approached them with a large cauldron of stew (most likely Lamb and Guinness Stew from the look of it) levitated in front of him. But talking had distracted him, he didn’t realise that the cauldron was tilted and almost spilling its content.

Hermione quickly flicked her wand to stabilise the cauldron, taking it over from Ron and safely placed it in the centre of the table. “Ron, I told you I’m sorry for forgetting to send you a note. It was a sudden call and you know how I was when I’m deep in researching mode.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron pouted, “At this rate I think we should stop making plan and just go whenever we have time because anytime we made one, it’s either you or me would be called for some emergency. It’s like the universe is conspiring against us.”

Harry commented, “I’ve told you right, that’s what I and Hermione always do. But you always insist to make it as if you are arranging some meeting appointment.”

“Well, I know she’s busy so I’m just making sure when she has free time. At least I heard that’s what a gentlemen will do,” Ron fired back.

“But not for a lunch or coffee between friends, Ron,” Hermione refuted lightly. “You’re making it complicated. Let’s just keep it simple, okay,” she added, trying not to show any strain or guilt in her voice.

Hermione could see his expression dimmed briefly. It’s not that she didn’t notice how Ron wished to be more than a friend with her. He clearly wanted to explore what would they be had they just continue from their kiss and her departure to Australia had never happened. He might not ask her for a date yet he treated it to be.

She wasn’t ready to address it yet, a lot of thing had happen between then and now. Their friendship hadn’t even recovered to the way it was, she didn’t want to risk another fallout. So unlike Ginny who said it upfront to Harry, Hermione pretended ignorance on Ron’s not so subtle attempts.

Awkward silence descended between them. She threw her gaze around for something to deflect their conversation and saw George emerged from house with a box of beverage in his arm. “He really looks different. George,”

With thin beard on his face and longer hair he did look different, the twins had never sported beard before. Ginny told her that George had a hard time looking at his own reflection in the mirror so he never shaved. In the beginning Mrs Weasley used to do it for him – she always end up in tears afterward. Until one night, he accidentally saw his reflection on the window, unshaved. From that point, he had kept it that way.

“Well, it suits him. And it helps us too, especially Mum. She had stopped seeing Fred in him,” Ron reflected quietly.

The air turned sombre but only for a moment because Mrs Weasley chose that time to join them, followed by Ginny, Fleur, and the rest of their meals.

“Okay everyone, gather up! Dinner is ready,” she shouted loudly.

Hermione put on her best smile and greeted her, “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier to help more, Mrs Weasley.”

“It’s okay dear, I’m just glad you made it. Arthur told me that your department had some crisis.”

“It is, Mrs Weasley.”

“No matter, you’re here now. Nobody should be working on Christmas, especially as you have family here” She gripped her shoulder warmly then turned to Harry and added, “Maybe next time you can invite Teddy and Andromeda to come here as well, Harry. There’s always place for more people here.”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley. I’ll relay it to them,” said Harry. He moved aside to give way for Ginny. “Andromeda sent her thanks for your suggestion, Gin. I’m sure Teddy will love his gift. And thank you for accompanying me to get it as well.”

“No worry, especially as it landed me in Gossip Column in Witch Weekly,” she joked. “And by the way Hermione, I swear I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend.”

“What ... No! Is it Skeeter again?!”

She stole a glance to Mrs Weasley. Surely she never mentioned anything about her abrupt departure or the aftermath events two years ago, instead she had welcomed her with an open arm when they first met few weeks ago. But with how she had reacted in similar situation on fourth year, Hermione couldn’t help to felt wary. Unfortunately, Mrs Weasley only gave an amused smile in hearing that comment.

She breathed a sigh of relief and back to Ginny, peeved, “What did she write?”

Ginny smirked. “Well, something about you tightens your grips on the Boy Who Live Again until he suffocated so he looked for a breather from me.” She put her arm on Hermione shoulder, pulled her closer and whispered, “But sorry Hermione, I’m not into threesome.”

“Ginny!” Hermione swatted her and distanced herself from the giggling ginger hair girl, looked obviously scandalised.

“I don’t know how, but apparently she took picture of us the last time we went for coffee last month and another picture when Ginny accompany me to look for Christmas gift for Teddy last week,” explained Harry in resigned manner.

“We know how, Harry. Guess we should be more on guard of bugs from now on. Just wait until I can get my hand on her, I swear I’ll make her life miserable.”

Everyone sat down in their respective chair and dinner commenced pleasantly. Compliment on the food’s taste was thrown in between mundane conversation and clicking sound of spoon against plate. Very unlike the usual Weasley’s traditional dinner.

“So what actually hold you in Durham, Hermione? I know that most has already back five days ago.” Mr Weasley asked from the head table.

“The culprit finally confessed the Potion he used to multiply the Pixies and I was curious about it so I stayed with the team to examine it.”

“And what was it?”

“It was combination of some short of Duplication Charm and special Potion so the disappeared Pixies were actually some kind of live-solid mirage of the original Pixies.”

“You mean like cloning?” Harry chime in.

Seeing confused look on Mr Weasley’s face, Hermione clarified, “It’s Muggle term, Mr Weasley. Basically they’re duplicating living creature.”

“Without magic? How?” enquired Mr Weasley who now seemed to be truly curious on what started as a mere polite conversation.

“Muggle has science. It’s very complicated with very long process and also takes long time. I’ll need to give long lesson about genetics to explain it to you so let’s just leave it at that,” she expounded, then shifted to Harry. “It wasn’t real cloning actually, only mirage. The Potion only held for 7 days, that’s why most disappeared, not escaped as we initially thought. And they’re connected to the original, they didn’t have their own mind, technically they weren’t a real thing but more of reflection. We should have notice something as the clones move the same as the original but with hundred something Pixies together in frenzy, it’s hard to spot it.”

He grimaced, “Sound like Dark Magic, just imagine if someone use it to create an army. Even though it’s only for 7 days but if couple of Pixies could create that much racket, couple of wizard would be very damaging.”

“Fortunately it didn’t work for human,” Hermione assured. “We tried to use it to mouse and Flobberworm, but nothing happen. Seems like it work specifically on Pixie as there’s some ingredient involving Pixie’s body part. Beside, human body was too complex, I’m not sure it would even possible. But just for precaution, we made sure to safe keep it so nobody will try something similar like this again. And the culprit will be severely punished as well even though his reason was innocent. He accidentally created this Potion and thought that it would be good for a Christmas prank but the Pixies managed to escape from their cage and that fiasco happened.”

“Well, since he managed to make your department in shamble I would say that it was a successful prank,” Charlie pointed. By this time, more had taken interest in this conversation. “But honestly, it sounds like something that came from your shop, George.”

George gave out a morose smile before responded, “If it’s me, it would work for human. It will be marketed as ‘Make Your Double’ or something like that. Have your double covering your back when you do some mischief. Plus it would be perfect as you share your mind.”

The table went still on his nonchalant comment. What he just described was the twins’ usual Modus Operandi. All eyes were fixed on George with various expressions.

Undeterred by the attention, George reached his Pumpkin Juice and sipped it calmly. “Though nothing can replace Fred so I won’t waste my time to think about it.” He looked up to his family and snickered wryly, “What? You guys think that I’m concocting a crazy Necromancy to revive Fred? I’m sure he’s having fun watching me have a hard time with the shop, no use to bother him up there.”

Mrs Weasley sniffed, her lip quiver but she forced a smile. “Lee is still helping in the shop, right?”

“Yeah, but in holiday season like now it was quite hectic for two persons. At the very least I need to find someone for the front.”

“What happen to the last girl?” asked Hermione, part of helping Mrs Weasley to steer the conversation and other part of genuine curiosity.

“She left England during the war and hasn’t returned. You see Hermione, if you know someone capable please refer them to me. I’m really in dire need for assistant right now.”

“Tell Lee I invite him for dinner anytime he can, George. And you come home more often as well. At the very least I’ll know you’re well feed.”

“Will do, Mum.”

And with that, the rueful atmosphere was lifted and everyone was back to their own conversation. Hermione continued the talk about the shop with George, from what kind of person he needed for an assistant to some details aspects of his products.

The Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had only been re-opened last summer. It had taken longer for George to go near the shop, Ginny had told her. Until Easter Break when Ginny asked if she could stay at the flat above the shop temporarily after graduation if George didn’t want it, so the two of them had gone together to Diagon Alley.

There were a pair of sibling in front of the shop; the older one was busy consoling his upset little brother. Apparently he would leave for his first year in Hogwarts in September and had promised his sibling that he’d buy him something from the joke shop to accompany him while he was at school. They were never separated so the younger kid was taking his brother departure rather hard.

This revelation had roused George. He then crouched down to the kid’s eye level and told him that the shop was under minor reparation but would be open before his brother left to Hogwarts so they should come back in the summer. Later that day, coincidentally they passed Lee Jordan on their way back and shortly they agreed to work together to re-open the shop while Ginny had later end up become flatmate with Hermione.

Mrs Weasley had just placed her signature mince pie on the table when Bill stood up. He tapped his spoon against his glass, drawing everyone’s attention. All chatters died down and they all stared at him with a questioning look.

“I have ... Fleur and I have an announcement,” he glanced at her wife who sat beside him, giving each other a delighted grin. “We’re expecting.”

Mrs Weasley was the first to react. “A baby? You’re having a baby?” she gasped, utterly surprised. Fleur nodded in answer, wide smile and misty eyes.

Mrs Weasey’s initial shock was quickly replaced with excitement. She rounded up the table to her daughter-in-law and embraced her.

“I’m so happy for you, dear,” she beamed, ecstatic. She turned to her eldest son and rested her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze affectionately. “My boy is going to be a daddy. Arthur, we’ll be grandparents,” she squealed, tears streaming from her eyes.

Many hugs, handshakes, and congratulations later, this Christmas dinner end in merry way. A coming of a new family member might never replace the lost one, but it could certainly bring new happiness around.

***

The Leaky Cauldron was jam packed, it was only five days into the year after all. Wading through the crowd while looking for her friends in this dimly lit place was proved to be a challenge, so Hermione went straight to the barstool.

“Hey Tom, do you see Harry Potter?” she asked in low voice once she caught the barman attention.

He slightly bended over the table so she could her him. “You’re friend was already here, Miss Granger. There’s at the back corner.”

She moved her gaze to the directed corner and saw the striking red hair among the dark. Either they had used their Auror card or their War Hero card, but her friend had managed to secure the most private table in this busy period.

“Do you want to order something as well, Miss Granger?” Tom asked in normal volume.

“Maybe later. Thank you, Tom.”

There were Harry, Ron, Neville, and Luna on the table, the other seemed hasn’t arrived yet. This gathering was Neville’s idea. During the Ministry New Year Gala few days ago, few DA members attended. But because the semi-formal setting of the Gala, their conversation was a bit stilted so Neville suggested to meet again in more relax setting and made it some short reunion by inviting more DA members. So, there they were.

Neville, who had spotted her, waved to her direction. She walked swiftly to the corner, dodging couple of drunk middle age men half way, and took the chair next to Luna.

“Hey, guys! I’m not late am I?”

“No, we also just arrived,” Harry answered. “Where’s Ginny?”

“She has training. She said she’s sorry she can’t come.”

Ron whistled. “Training just 5 days after New Year?! Now I believe that her coach is harpy.”

“That’s what she said,” she chuckled. “Actually one of their Chaser was hurt so Ginny was in to the team for the next game and her coach want to make sure that she can fit with other Chasers so they had several extra training. She was torn between upset to have to go to training during holiday or ecstatic because she make into the team.”

“Wow, that will be her first game as professional, right. Do you think she can reserve some tickets for us?” Harry enthused.

“We have to ask her. By the way, what are you guys talking about before? I heard someone mention my name. Oh, wait.” She waved her wand and added second charm on top of Muffling Charm around them.

“What was that?”

“A Bug-Repelling Charm,” she answered. “Just for precaution because I don’t want anything we talk here end up in tomorrow Prophet. I learnt from some guys from Beast division when I was in Durham. It worked for _any_ kind of bug, including _shape-shifting_ type.”

“Okay, I think I need to learn it as well,” Harry muttered.

“It was an easy spell, I’ll teach you later. Now back to my question, what are you talking about me?”

Neville answered for them, “Nothing important. We’re just wondering about the progress of your Elf Regulation proposal. Compare to the first few months you start your work, you are rather quiet lately.”

“Oh, _that_.” She said, nodded in thanks when Harry pushed a glass of Butterbeer. “After last time, I think I still need to do more research so I’ll be well prepared when I had the chance to present it to Wizengamot. Because I may only have one chance and I don’t want to waste it with my half-cooked preparation.”

Harry was contemplating for a moment before voicing his opinion. “To be honest, Hermione. After living with Kreacher for almost two years, I think your idea about freeing or paying House-Elf isn’t a good idea. I mean, you know how Kreacher can be when I try to do that and most Elves I’ve met until now were behaving like that. What if Dobby was an exception because he was treated badly by the Malfoy. What if they’re indeed feeling happy by serving wizard?”

“Not you too, Harry. Just because you know the taste of being served as a master, now you turn to be like any other Pure-blood who’s supporting slavery,” Hermione admonished him, disappointed.

“That’s not fair, you know I want to free Kreacher. What I suppose to do if he threatens to chop his own head? I prefer to do things on my own anyway,” Harry bristled. “What do you think, Neville?”

Neville, who was busy nursing his drink, was startled to suddenly been singled out. “Well, we don’t have House-Elf and I don’t remember ever seeing one in my home since I was a kid. My Grand don’t like anybody intrudes in her space, so maybe that’s why we don’t have one.”

“My home can’t afford to house a House-Elf, so we don’t have any as well,” Luna chirped in before anyone asked her.

“I asked Mum many times in the past on why we don’t have House-Elf and she also said that we can’t afford one,” Ron gave his contribution in the discussion. “But I agree with Harry, just like I’d told you many times before, they’re happy to serve us. And truthfully, I would be more than happy to have one in my home. Even with magic, helping Mum at home can be very tiring after a tiring day at work.”

“The new recruits will join us this week right, it will lift some burden from us. Three out of five applicants, not a bad number.” Neville tried to humour him.

“Yeah, it will be good that we’re not the most junior in the squad anymore. But I still don’t understand why Malfoy is in it.”

“Draco Malfoy works as Auror?” Luna put in, tilting her head curiously.

Ron grumbled, “Yes, I heard it was part of his three years probation. He has to do certain community service and it seems to include voluntary work for the Ministry. I just don’t get why it’s in Auror Office.”

“Well, he met all the requirements to join Auror training and he passed the examination so there’s no valid reason to reject him,” Harry reasoned offhandedly. “There was no rule stating that former convict couldn’t become Auror which he’s not because he’d been acquitted anyway. Kingsley was trying to be fair; stopping prejudice by giving a fair chance for everyone, including people from the opposite end.”

“But Auror, Harry? It’s the Pompous Git we’re talking about here. It make more sense if he’s doing some menial work, like shorting the paper maybe. It was too suspicious not to mention how the Malfoys had rather lenient punishment. There’s something behind this. I have no doubt that there’s some short of backdoor deal behind this,” Ron argued back.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t think Kingsley can be bribed and we know how McDougal is, his bitterness is only second to Moody. Do you think anyone can force him to give a pass to Malfoy? Robards isn’t stupid either. Unless there are many people in DMLE under Imperius or Polyjuice, which I don’t think is the case.”

“Fine,” Ron bristled, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And by the way, I will include you in that list too. You keep defending Malfoy, Harry. That’s just weird.” He paused as if something just crossed his mind and snorted. “I’m not sure whether having Malfoy as junior will be a good thing or bad thing. Wonder who his partner and mentor will be.”

Harry started fidgeting under his stare, which only invited another privy looks from Ron. Finally he sighed, “It’s me.”

“What?!”

“I will be Malfoy’s partner. Robards told me last month before the holiday,” Harry iterated in confirmation.

“Why?”

“But you’re not a full-fledge Auror yet, you still have one and half year to go. How can you become someone else’s mentor?” Hermione interrupted.

Harry chose to answer Hermione instead of Ron. “Robards told me that there’s not enough senior Auror in the office for mentoring job and Gladwin will be sent to MACUSA for some mission next month so I’ll be without partner. I will not mentoring Malfoy, we’ll just become partner as both of us will report directly to Robards and McDougal will supervise us as well.”

“If that’s the case, why not pair me up with you and give him to Jonas?” Ron pressed.

“Even though it’s only one year, but I’ll still be Malfoy’s senior,” Harry explained. “But if you ask me, I think Robards just want to avoid conflict among his team. You know that many don’t like Malfoy and it’s known that I testify for him in his trial so maybe Robards reckons that I’m his safest bet who’s willing to be cordial with Malfoy. And I will. After what happen with Snape, I know that everything isn’t just a matter of black and white, and I’ll give him that.”

“He has very distinctive aura around him, but he isn’t a bad person.” Luna interjected in her usual airy tone. “You are friend with him right, Hermione? I often saw you together in Hogwarts.”

All eyes whipped around to her in a second and even Ron eyed her with a disbelieving – almost accusing – glare, so she quickly clarified, “Please don’t get the wrong idea, we only share table in the library. We both needed a place to study undisturbed and as there’s only one ideal place in the library, we agreed to share.”

“He did? He didn’t throw you some mean words or hex you?” accused Ron.

“No, we mostly worked on our essay in silence,” Hermione replied. “And if we happened to exchange some idea about schoolwork, he’s always civil. He apologised to me in the beginning of the term. Now that recalled it, outside class he mostly holed up in the library so when I said we shared table maybe it’s more correct if I said that I’m invading his hiding place. But overall he’s okay.”

“Watching the brutally of the war up close must have shook him. I often worked with him during Hogwarts rebuilding and he was quite decent. It irked me in the beginning, I mean it was Draco Malfoy, but instead of taunting me like before he looked wary of me.” Neville spoke his thought.

Ron sneered. “Maybe he was. After what you did with the snake, he’s stupid if he wasn’t.”

“Please don’t remind me of that. If there’s one thing I regret about, it is the attention I got after that. I happened to be there and I did what I supposed to do, I’m no hero. I shudder to think what I’ll do if I was at Malfoy place; having monster lived in my house, threatening to kill my mother – or in my case, my grandmother. Do you know that he’s staying at Hogwarts throughout the summer after his trial? I wonder whether it was part of his punishment or it’s because he couldn’t stomach to be in his own house. I always needed some breather after a while, so how bad his house could be if he chose Hogwarts over it.”

“Or maybe he had more good memories in Hogwarts with his torturing act,” Ron suggested, but with less bitterness in his voice.

“I don’t think so, Ron. That year he barely did anything. Goyle and Crabbe were worse under Carrows, but Malfoy seemed to just disappear behind shadow. Yes he’s Death Eater, but don’t forget he’s the same age as us and he might have seen something worse than what we’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, you guys managed to make me pity him. Can we change topic, please,” Ron conceded. His eyes surveyed around the table and stopped at Luna. “How are you doing nowadays, Luna?”

“I’m well.” Her fingers tracing a circle around the rim of her glass nonchalantly. “Daddy said he will take me to his expedition next spring. We’re going to go to Brazil for Wormberfumswit.”

“Wo ... Wom-what?” Ron sputtered.

“It was a type of worm which grows wing during full moon, they will spray golden dust that will bring you luck until the next full moon. Daddy had made contact with Mr Scamander and he agreed to let us report the expedition,” Luna expounded serenely, her attention was still on her glass.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged looks. Both Ron and Neville looked completely lost while Harry raised his shoulders slightly and threw a questioned stare at the brunette witch. She glared back at him, brows were drawn together in a frown, before dissolving into neutral expression. “That sounds great, Luna,” she responded politely.

But it couldn’t save the conversation. As it always happened in the past, nobody could really keep up with Luna when she’s being _the Luna_. She never failed to make them losing words.

“How’s Hogwarts, Neville? I heard you were sent there few weeks ago.” Harry took a safe path by veering to a new subject.

“Everything was normal. I met Professor Sprout during the visit and I’ve been in communication with her ever since.” He seemed uncertain for a bit and then hastily added, “She said she plans to retire and offered me her position if I’m interested.”

“Neville, that’s wonderful! You always love Herbology. You’re taking it, right?” Hermione affirmed excitedly.

He blushed, proof that the shy young Neville had not completely disappeared yet. “Yes. Thank you, Hermione.”

“You’re quitting Auror?!” Ron caterwauled. If not for the Muffling Charm, they would likely attract the attention from everyone in the bar.

Neville nodded in admission. “I am, but not immediately, maybe after spring. Professor Sprout said I can start my apprentice on September, but she suggested I’m helping her for new class preparation during summer so I can get a grip on what it will be.”

“But why?” Ron probed.

“Well, I joined Auror because I wanted to help in the post war recovery and now that everything seems to be on track again plus with new guys coming, I think I can leave. Saving the world and cashing dark wizard was never my thing anyway.” He’s beginning to feel embarrassed to be in the spotlight, he abruptly stood up. “Anybody want another drink or snack? I’ll get it for you.”

“A pint for me, please. And maybe some crisps or a bowl of nuts?”

“I’ll have another Butterbeer, thank you. I don’t feel like drinking, so much works waiting at home.”

“I think I need Firewhisky,” said Ron, but suddenly he changed his mind and cheekily grinned, “No, I’m going with you. We don’t know how long it will take for you to get the drink from the lady in the back if we let you go alone.”

It’s comical how Neville turned crimson up to the tip of his ears and neck. He mumbled something incomprehensive before decided that it was better to fly the premise. Ron quickly followed him, teasing him along the way.

Hermione observed Ron’s retreating figure with a critical eye and asked Harry, “What did I miss?”

Harry chuckled, “Oh, we just think that Neville had started dating Hannah. Remember Hannah Abbott, Hufflepuff? She works here for quite some time ago.”

“They’re dating. There’s a lot Nargles around them, it’s so obvious.”

“I’m talking about Ron. What’s wrong with him? It’s not unusual, but he’s very bitter today. And I caught you glance at him strangely when Neville told us about his plan, Harry.”

Harry’s cheerful expression morphed into pensive one. “Things weren’t good for him at work,” he lamented. “Sometimes it’s hard for him to keep up and it doesn’t help that his mentor is very demanding. Even on a get go, Neville has performed better than him. I don’t think Auroring suits him but I can’t just tell him like that, right?”

“Do you want me to talk to him? Or maybe Ginny?” Hermione offered, although she didn’t actually have any idea how to bring it up to Ron without offending him.

“To tell him to quit like Neville does? And then what?” Harry challenged dejectedly. “I don’t know, Hermione. Maybe this year will be better and he’ll end up becoming one of the best Auror in history. Well, I certainly hope so.”

He lifted his glass to his mouth and only realised that it was empty when nothing flowed in. He huffed, “What take them so long? I’ll go and see, maybe they need help.” And without another word, he followed suit to the bar.

Then it was only Hermione and Luna. Hermione had suddenly regretted in chasing Harry away and hoped that someone would come quickly as she was seldom able to hold any conversation with her. She really never managed to follow the Ravenclaw’s line of thought.

And just to prove her point, out of nowhere Luna absentmindedly queried, “Something happened with Draco?”

Her head turned so fast she almost broke her neck. “What do you mean?”

Luna tilted her head, smiled knowingly, and Hermione felt like she was being stripped bare.

“There’s nothing happened,” she lied. There’s no way that Luna knew, she told herself. But the blonde witch kept her gaze on her and it made her jittery. “I found out that he still has House-Elf and it wasn’t registered in the Ministry list but if I report it, it may jeopardise his probation,” she blurted in the end.

“House-Elf? You mean Pippin?”

“You know him?”

“Yes, he used to give me bread or apple during my stay at Malfoy Manor. He had Falleywis following him but they didn’t buzzing in his ears, so I’m confused.” She put her chin on her palm, thinking.

“Falleywis?”

A lock of her blond hair escaped from her plait cascading to her ear but she didn’t mind it. “Yes, they like homeless House-Elf. I once saw a House-Elf surrounded by many Falleywis in the forest near my house. When I asked Daddy if I could take him home, Daddy said our house couldn’t afford him and few days later he just disappeared.”

“Homeless House-Elf? You mean free House-Elf?”

Once again Luna nodded. “But the Falleywis were only following him, they didn’t do anything to him. That’s why I’m confused.”

Hermione went quiet, remembering her last encounter with the blond Slytherin. “Malfoy did mention that he’s free. But Pippin said that he’s bound to Malfoy,” she remarked thoughtfully.

Luna clapped her hand in front of her mouth, a wide smile appeared on her face. “I see, so that’s how it is. He tied his life to Draco, that’s why he kept worrying about not wanting his Master to be in trouble.”

Her statement surprised Hermione. “What did Malfoy do to him?”

Luna shook her head and giggled. “Oh, it doesn’t work that way Hermione. It has nothing to do with the wizard, the Elf pledge his life on his own free will. This bond cannot be forced and it comes purely from the Elf side, not from the master, the master agreement isn’t necessary. Interesting, I wonder what did Draco do to make Pippin did that?”

“So Malfoy still has anything to do with this, right?” Hermione questioned further.

“Hermione, you really don’t understand it, do you?” Luna chastised her as if she was talking to a stubborn toddler. “This is the purest bond between a House-Elf and wizard. For an Elf to pledge his deepest loyalty to a wizard, he must have done something very great to make the Elf do that. They never take this bond lightly, it was almost unheard before, because if they did then they must do their Master’s order with no way to disobey and when the master dies the Elf will die as well. You know, it would be a great honour for us to receive that kind of loyalty.”

Once again Luna succeeded in making Hermione felt stupid and couldn’t find any word of argument. Instead she just parroted back, “You mean Malfoy did something nice to House-Elf?”

“More than that. It must be something equivalent to a Life-Debt for us witches.”

Feeling intrigued, Hermione wasn’t sure on which she should believe. She knew that even though most of the time what Luna said was nonsense or sounded like one, but there had been time here and there when there were some truth in her word. And this time seemed like one of it. Yet she couldn’t really imagine a _Draco Malfoy_ did something heroic for a House-Elf.

Unfortunately she didn’t have any chance to continue this talk with the arrival of Dean and Ernie, followed by Ron, Harry, and Neville who returned with their drinks. And soon, this topic was temporary sided aside from her thought.


	7. House-Elf

The Ministry was still vacant of activity when Hermione Apparate in the Atrium. It was barely half seven in the morning after all and unlike her, most Ministry staff usually came around eight. But she liked to start early, aside that her mind was clearer in early morning she also had time to get settle on her rhythm first so she would already well prepared for anything that coming once the office hour kicked in. Besides, now she had a new ritual every morning.

After more than a year being left empty, in what used to be the Fountain of Magical Brethren – which was replaced by the Magic is Might Monument during Voldemort’s puppet short regime – now it was back to be a fountain once again. But instead of a group of golden statues with unrealistic depiction of magical creature jetting glittering water from various points, a real life Hazel tree stood tall in the middle of the circular pool, shading the jets of water stream in the middle of the pool with its spreading canopy and crown.

It was named as the Fountain of Gleaw and was unveiled on the last Ministry New Year Gala. Tree was chosen as it was thought to connect nature, wizards, and other magical creatures. Tree connected and grew directly from Earth, wizards used it for their wand to connect them with their magic, and it also represented a forest where almost all magical creatures and beast seeking shelter and lived there. Intricate enchantment was cast around it so the tree could live just like if it was outside in its normal environment and not underground.

Hazel was known to be the Tree of Knowledge, it symbolised white magick and healing – a message the Ministry wanted to convey in this post-war period. Magically, beside for making wands, hazel wood was also believed to be used to gain wisdom and divination as well as to draw protection. Many part of the tree, from its fruit to its twigs, was used for several healing potion too. It was also said to hold the secret of the earth, the current of the land, which made the air surrounding it to be charged with energy that attracted magical creature such as Fae.

Hermione didn’t know if all of it was true or not but since the first day she returned from the year-end holiday, she always stopped by the fountain and just stared at the tree for several minutes. The tree reminded her of a similar hazel tree in the park near her childhood home.

When she was still a kid, she used to like climbing it while her parents would watch, grinning and cheering at her. It was the only tree she could climb since the other trees in the park was either too small or too tall so it was deemed unsafe by her parents. Even when she was too big to climb it, she still often visited the tree on her way home from school, mostly to cry after a hard day at school so she would be her usual cheerful self when she’d arrived home.

Maybe some hazel trees had really been surrounded by healing energy, since just like when she was a kid she always felt better after poured her pain below her childhood tree, here every morning after she stopped by the fountain she always felt recharged with a boost of new energy to start her day. Not once she tore up when reminiscing her childhood while staring at the tree, it always bought a smile to her instead. Then after a while, she would take a deep breath and with full of new resolve she marched to the lift.

When the gate slid open, it reveal a lanky redheaded man who looked like he had been forcibly pulled from his bed – in rumpled Auror robes, eyes puffy red and barely open with a visible black bag under it. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake which clearly didn’t work since he didn’t even notice her presence and almost bumped her when he staggering out of the lift.

“Ronald?!” Hermione exclaimed, surprised to see him at work so early and in a very unkempt state.

Her voiced jolted some alertness on him as both his eyes were quickly wide open almost as if he’s in fright. “Mione? What ... Urghh, don’t tell me it’s morning already,” he groaned loudly.

Between curious and genuine concern, Hermione asked, “Long night?”

“Try _nights_. And it turned out to be un-useful tip. Why we blindly followed an anonymous tip I can never understand. It’s dubious enough if they reluctant to state their source. Anyway, I’ll just go home and sleep. Hope Mum won’t nag me for anything,”

He bided his goodbye and heading to the line of fireplace, still grumbling along the way.

Hermione’s morning itself was rather uneventful. Just like the days before, between her routine tasks she would work through the House-Elf Register List, something that she did based on curiosity on why Malfoy and Pippin wasn’t in it. She had used the document several times before especially to check the schedule of their monthly inspection so she knew that it was – to put it mildly – not well organised or accurate, but upon closer look she was horrified by how bad it was.

The problem with the document was, unlike wizard register document, it needed to be updated manually. For every magical baby that was born in British Isles, their name would be automatically updated in the Hogwarts registry – which could only be accessed by the Headmaster or Headmistress – and once they attended Hogwarts their name would be recorded in British Ministry of Magic Register Archive. But magical creatures had different kind of magic and until now wizard still couldn’t find a proper method to classify it so just like Goblin and Centaur, the record needed to be updated manually.

And just like other Magical Creature, it’s almost a sure thing that no House-Elf would voluntary came to the Ministry to register their name. So it was up to the ‘Master’ and as anything pertaining House-Elf could lead to private matter or even family secret, most wizard was rather reluctant to do it as well. The last new Household was added to the list was over 98 years ago and the update after that was mostly on the death of the Elf or the end of the Household either with the death of its owner or the house was destroyed with no further remark on what happen to the House-Elf who was there.

To make matter worse it could only be revised by the Office for House-Elf Relocation, but nobody seemed to notice or care, even her colleagues. Almost every person – if not all – who applied to the Office was not for their interest in House-Elf, but because it was easy and merely as stepping stone before they moved to other position of their liking, including Ronan who stayed this long because he felt quite comfortable with his job and rather averse to move to new position where he needed to start over or worked harder. The routine task like monthly inspection was often skipped to 2 or 3 months later or more by just copying the report from the last visit. Other job was incidental, mainly some complaints or incident affecting the wizard not the Elf. Nobody would take any initiative to fill report or investigate if it only affecting the Elf.

Only now Hermione fully realised how difficult it would be if she wanted to stay in this path. Regardless, she was sorted to Gryffindor for reason and she loved challenge. No matter how hard or how long it would be, she would not give up without a fight. She would find a way to reach her goal.

“Hermione, have you send the revision to Fieldwake?” her colleague, Phillip, asked her.

“What revision?” She barely moved her eyes from the parchment.

“Report on Boldburry’s case. Just tell me if you haven’t finished it yet. I can help, you know.”

“Gods! I forget about it!” She dropped her quill. “It’s okay, it’s finished. I told you I’ll take care of it right, I just forgot to send it. I’ll go now and give it to her directly.”

“Just send it, won’t you? You’re witch, no need to go there,” suggested Lorna, the only other woman in this team.

“No. That old hag hates me. I won’t give her any opportunity to claim that I missed the deadline just because she didn’t check the pile of file on her desk.”

“She will stop if you stop battering her about your proposal.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of it,” Hermione replied sarcastically, hands were busy collecting the necessary parchment. “I really have to go now before she leaves for lunch.”

Lorna only shook her head disbelieved. “Where’s your boyfriend, anyway. Usually he’s already here around this time. Should we tell him to wait for you?”

“Once more, he’s not my boyfriend. I’m going.” Then she dashed to the door.

And she was right, Fieldwake was ready to leave for lunch when she knocked her door and she surely wasn’t look so happy to be delayed by such trivial matter – funny as she had said that it was important when she told her to revise it few days ago. At least she couldn’t accuse her of incompetency over this, maybe.

While waiting for the lift in the hallway on her way back to Level 4, her eyes wandered to the end on the corner where the storeroom lay. After New Year she seldom went to the Balcony, mainly because her two Auror friends often came to her office during break – especially Ron who was more frequent to visit her lately. Knowing that he struggled in his work, she wanted to be a good friend by at the very least listening to him as there’s not much she could do help him anymore like what she did with his homework during their school year. And she rather not to hear another accusation that she was avoiding him.

But today Ron was most likely fast asleep in his home and Harry won’t say anything if he didn’t find her in her desk. And as the rain had stopped this morning as well, she could enjoy the view and a peaceful afternoon at the very least. So there she went, changing her direction to the other way.

After three days straight of raining, the air felt cleaner. The spring breeze was also felt nice with the combination of the last remnant of the rain’s coldness and the beginning of the sun’s warmth. As she walked straight to the west balustrade, she could see the glimpse of colours from the distance.

“Wow! Beautiful,” she gasped in awe. She had been in St James’s Park before, but never saw it from above directly like this.

The view as it began to turn into its spring shade was breathtaking. Buds started to bloom, as if painting what had been a dark bark of the tree trunk. The rain had cleared the sky, making it into a brilliant bright blue with white clouds scattered in a remarkable composition. It was reflected perfectly by the lake, creating a beautiful picture of spring season.

“And here I thought you’ve finally left me in peace, Granger.” A lazy drawl coming from behind her almost made her heart jumped.

Her vigilant was getting rusty, this could end in a very bad result in a different situation. She schooled her face quickly and managed to picture an indifferent expression when she turned around.

“Well, I thought you left this place for me as you were never around every time I came here, Malfoy,” she said in flippant tone.

Malfoy scoffed and hopped up from the bench, joining her by the balustrade. “It looks better in autumn, more colours. Though, it does sound tragic that it looks the best just before it loses everything.”

Hermione was taken aback with the abrupt comment, but she followed his gaze to the park and replied, “But the cycle will continue and it will retain its beauty again.”

They went quiet. Just standing there watching the world played out in front of their eyes, falling to their own thought.

“Where were you, Malfoy? Found a new place?”

Malfoy only gave her a glance before turning around to lean his back to the barrier, crossing his arm on his stomach. “I’m sure you know that they partner me with Potter, so if you really want to know most likely you’ve already asked him of my whereabouts?”

She gave him a side eye and snorted, “Sorry to disappoint you, but your name hasn’t really mentioned in our conversation that much.”

“Good. And since nobody has banging my door and dragging me to Azkaban, my Elf wasn’t a topic in discussion too.” His eyes were to the sky, but she could sense some sort of gratitude in his voice.

“I know about the Elf-bond.” She faced him fully when she asked, “What did you do to him to make him did the bond, Malfoy?”

He eyed her with an indignant look. “If you know, then why you’re accusing me as if I’m forcing him to do so. Would it so unbelievable if there’s someone who have an initiative to do something for me in their own free will aside of my mother?”

“Well Malfoy, I find it’s hard to believe that you’re able to do anything that even remotely civilized to House-Elf,” she snarked sharply. “Especially after what happened to Dobby.”

The name made him frowned, breaking the intensity in his expression. “Dobby? Who ...,” A shift in his eyes appeared as realisation dawn on him. “Ah, that Elf who helped you escaped from the manor. Yes, I heard that he worship Potter after he tricked my father into freeing him. What he had to do with this?”

She stared incredulously at his question. “He was badly abused in your home,” she hissed.

“Ah yes,” said Malfoy. “My father’s _fixation_ on that Elf was rather disconcerting. For someone who distastes House-Elf to the point that he forbids them to appear in his presence, he trolled that Elf a lot you would have thought that the Elf might have shredded his favourite toy to pieces in front of his eyes when he was toddler.”

“Hah, are you saying that you have no hand in mistreating him, Malfoy?”

The anger in his face had completely changed into mocking expression. “There, finally the Righteous Granger in her high and mighty glory makes her appearance. I was almost scared that you’ve lost it during the war, Granger.”

She silted her eyes dangerously, but he casually whirled around and returned to the bench.

“Are you a good kid at home, Granger? Did you remove your elbow when your parents told you not to put it on the table?”

“That’s completely different matter.”

“But disobedience was still disobedience. Do you think that my parents would allow it in my home? Sure they spoiled me and I can even attest that they love me in their own way but no, they will not accept disobedience even from their only son.”

“So you justified your action by saying that they forced you to do it?”

“No,” he answered in flat voice, crossing his leg and relaxing his back comfortably on the back of the bench. “I’ve seen that in some case, a horse must be whipped to make it run faster.”

She scoffed, “And you just blindly believed it.”

“A child was expected to just believe when his parents told them not to touch a snake even though it looked similar to a Flobberworm. The parents could just tell him why or he would find the reason on his own later, but at that point he was expected to obey his parents’ words without question.”

His statement left her rattled. There’s some anger rising in her chest but also a guilty feeling as if she was been thoroughly reprimanded. She took a deep breath, the tense look in her expression was gradually morphed into affected pity.

“I work in an office which its main purpose is to ensure House-Elf welfare.” When she spoke, her voice was milder and calmer. “This was never ever recorded in our archive, so I’m within my authority to ask you the reason. At least for future reference,” she added.

Malfoy uncrossed his leg and rested his chin on his clapped hands. “And why do you think I know, Granger? One day I threw my necktie and he caught it, next thing he was bound to me. I didn’t even have any say when suddenly a life was thrust on me. Do you think you’ll like it if it happens to you?”

Once again she was thrown by his unexpected answer. She hurriedly collected her thought for a witty comeback but before she found a word, Malfoy made another remark.

“Or maybe you can try to ask him why he did it, Granger? Though good luck with that, it was a very secretive topic for House-Elves so I don’t think you can even threaten him with a forced freedom.”

She could only bit her lip, seething, as he gave his smuggest smirk he could produce. It’s not very often that she couldn’t make any rebuttal for a talk about House-Elf. And she really didn’t like the feeling.

“Where is he now?” asked Malfoy flippantly. At her questioning raised eyebrow, he added, “What’s the name again ... Dobby. Is he still with Potter? I heard him complain about House-Elf once, but I think it was different name.”

“It’s Kreacher.” Hermione reclined her back, half sitting on the base of the balustrade. The other bench was too far and to sit on the same bench with Malfoy was out of option. “He was killed. Remember your aunt threw a knife when he Disapparated us? It landed on his chest and he died shortly after we arrived in safe-house.”

There was a flick of shock and something like guilt appeared briefly in his face, but he hastily schooled it back to detachment. “Well, at least he spent his last 5 years freely exploring the world instead of cooking and cleaning a room for a wizard.”

“No. He worked at Hogwarts. The first paid House-Elf in history,” she added proudly.

“What?!” he said with an utter repugnance on his face. “Why? It’s not that Elf needs money, they can manage on their own without worldly necessity like us. If it’s me, once I was free from being chattel out, I’d go enjoying my life and not subjugate myself to other master – which is not the case for me as the Ministry has my hands bound.”

She lifted her nose haughtily. “He’s happy, that’s the most important thing. And besides being paid, he was treated better as well.”

“Still ... wait. Come again. Did my ears just deceived me or am I hearing you admitting that House-Elf like servitude?” The side of his lip was twitching as if he was restraining it from forming a full grin.

“You take my words out of context, Malfoy! That’s not what I mean.”

“Whatever you say, Granger,” he sniffled, his smug grin broke in to made another appearance.

Hermione tried to hold her glare. But when his grin turned to chuckle, she couldn’t take it any longer. “What’s so funny, Malfoy?” she said crudely.

“Nothing. I’m just recalling some children’s story about House-Elf I’ve read long time ago.”

“You mean Beedle the Bard? I don’t remember he wrote anything about House-Elf.”

“No, I don’t think it’s him either.”

“So what did it tell?” she queried, her irritation had slowly dissipate.

“It’s too early for bedtime story, Granger.” Malfoy tried to brusque it off.

It only made her more curious and she taunted him, “Oh, humour me, Malfoy. Let me see whether you’re knowledgeable on storytelling or not.” A smirk now appeared on her face, with her eyes daring him.

They hold their gaze for a while, along the time Hermione’s smirk got wider and as Malfoy’s scowl got deeper.

“Fine,” he huffed, surly accepted her challenge. “Let’s see ... The tale stated that Magic was a Gift from Earth. Among all creatures, Elf had been granted the most but in exchange they had a duty to care the Earth – Trees as they’re the only living being who’s connected directly to Earth. One Elf wanted to venture to the world outside their Forest, his Magic went haywire and he’s dying. Apparently Elves needed a Grounding as their Gift was too strong for their body, in the Forest it was the Trees. So when he left the Forest, his Magic started to eat him from inside.

“A Human found him and took him home. This Human was gifted with Magic as well, though not as strong as Elf. He’d been practicing Magic for so long in his home that his House had a lot of Magic residue. Surprisingly after some time, the Elf got better. In short, the House had become his Grounding. So the Elf stayed there and he offered the Human his service as restitution for letting him stay at his house. That’s how we have House-Elf in wizarding house and Seelie in woodland.”

He glared at her as he finished his story, daring her to voice her comment. But this staring match didn’t last as long as the first as Hermione could no longer hold back the twitch across her jaw, her chuckle broke out and quickly morphed into full giggle. It was Malfoy’s turn to be annoyed.

“I don’t find anything funny in my story, Granger.”

“Sorry,” she said, but her giggle didn’t subside, which only made him more irritated. “You need to work on your storytelling, Malfoy. If you read it like that to real kids, I wonder whether they would sleep for being bored or stayed awake with disbelieved.”

“As I don’t think I can catch criminal by reading them bedtime story, I don’t see why I need to learn it.”

She took another two deep breathe to control her giggle. Still with a visible grin on her face, she teased, “You’re quiet talkative today, aren’t you?”

“Maybe your bespectacled friend had bored me to near death and I need to vent,” Malfoy gruffed. “And it seems that my lunch break is almost over so I regretfully have to leave your company Ms Granger, before people start to think that I’m hiding from your Scarhead friend.”

“No need to be rude, Malfoy,” she chaffed.

Malfoy responded it with a slight bend of his head, then without another words he left. But once he was disappeared behind the door, her giggle started again and she let it turned into hearty laugh.

Of course she noticed that Malfoy had changed from his younger days at Hogwarts. Instead of an attention seeker like in his early years in Hogwarts, he seemed to avoid it now and preferring solitude to the point that he almost became recluse. Nevertheless he didn’t lose his conceited attitude or snide remarks in a single bit. So to watch him recited a children fairytale in his monotone, bland, and stiff articulation was a heralded experience that she was sure would only happened once in million years. Maybe if he was more expressive or even making funny noise like how parents normally read bedtime story to their kids, she wouldn’t laugh but would be petrified right there where she was standing with her eyes and jaw wide open for days.

Sadly she could never share this to her friends. Gauging from their reaction when they knew that she had shared table in Hogwarts library with Malfoy at the last New Year gathering, it would only lead to a long interrogation and explanation which most likely end with Ron’s temper outburst.

Nonetheless, Hermione had to applaud in how he managed to make a graceful exit. If it was her and Malfoy laughed at her like she had done to him, she would either be angry or make a hastily escape with her face bright red in shame. Though he didn’t lie about lunch break almost over. But if she left now and someone saw her leaving the storeroom just few minutes after Malfoy, undoubtedly it would invite nasty gossip.

So she stayed for another thirty minutes, enjoying the tranquillity of spring day. Meanwhile, her brain kept replaying her last conversation with Malfoy, even on her way back to her office. If she reassessed his words objectively, he did make a point. Up until now she was only focusing that House-Elves were been treated like a slave, not on how or why it happened.

He was right that House-Elf didn’t really need money like human did. Even for Dobby who was paid while he worked at Hogwarts, he only used his salary to buy trivial things like sock and not to buy some necessity to sustain his life. Yet he had been very determinded to find new employment after he was freed from Malfoy Household. Logically, just like other magical creature or other type of Elf, he should be able to lead a carefree life in the woodland or some other place.

Then she remembered Luna’s story about a free House-Elf she’d met near her home. She had said that it was surrounded by some creatures which buzzing on its ears and few days later the Elf had _disappeared_. Yes, most of what she said sounded like complete nonsense but there might be some truth in it – just like the unheard creature in the expedition she’d join which was likely to be real as it was headed by Mr Scamander (not sure which Scamander, but the Scamander family was well renown in magical creature research world).

Both Luna and Ron had also mentioned that their family couldn’t _afford_ House-Elf. Whether she liked it or not, Hermione had to admit that with the exception of Dobby, none of House-Elves she had met ever want to be paid. So if commonly they didn’t ask for payment, how come any wizarding family couldn’t afford House-Elf? The reason must be not about monetary issue then.

Other thing that ticked her was how House-Elf was treated. Sure, not all elves were mistreated but even when they did, they were terrified of being freed – again the only exception was Dobby. Witnessing how Dobby, Kreacher, and Hogwarts’ Elves had played their part in bringing down Voldemort, they’re surely neither weak nor not knowing how to defend themselves, yet they didn’t rebel when were treated badly. Even their punishment was self-inflected one.

When Hermione arrived at her desk, she caught a glance of the Household List which was laid open on her table. With just a quick look, she recognized some of the names listed there were a longstanding wizarding family.

“Ronan, do you know why our office was named Office for House-Elf Relocation?”

The brown haired man who just returned to his own desk only stared at her for a moment, processing her question. He was rather used of her random question or statement which sometimes seemed to be appeared out of nowhere, but it didn’t mean that his ability to respond was improving as well.

“No, but I know that it never changed before. Why do you ask?” he asked back, wondering where this topic came from.

“Just curious,” Hermione replied shortly. “By the way, can I be assigned to Hogwarts for the next couple of months?”

“Sure. But why Hogwarts?”

Hermione was ready for this question. She lifted the documents in front of her and said, “You know that I’m working on updating this list, right? I’m thinking of improving our House-Elf Population Data as well. No worry, it won’t disturb my main work. It can be done while we do monthly inspection so no need to visit one place twice. And since Hogwarts has the most House-Elves in Britain, I want to start there just to get some idea on how I want to do it.”

She smile innocently when Ronan nodded, believing her answer. She thought there’s no need for him to know her plan for now, it’s still only a speculation anyway. However, for some reason she felt like she finally had a breakthrough in her amendment proposal.

Since dealing with Deathly Hallow, she learnt her lesson not to take a fairytale as a mere imaginary write-up, especially in wizarding world. Even in Muggle fairytale, there’s always a possibility that when the author wrote it, they were inspired or even based their story from a real tale.

She only hoped that she could find any House-Elf who’s willing to talk to her. Surely by now they had already forgotten about SPEW, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although in writing this tale, I did some research on paganism and myths from various country in Europe and Asia (mainly Celtic/Druids), I took some liberty of mixing it up to fit my story so please forgive me if you find couple of deviation or inaccuracy.
> 
> The House-Elf stuff was completely made-up (the grounding part was an idea I borrowed from **The Summer Queen** by Trinkisme), the reference of hazel tree in this chapter is mainly from Celtic paganism. Can you catch other elements I used in the previous chapters?


	8. Trace

The lady luck wasn’t in her favour yet. Her plan wasn’t going as smoothly as she’d expected, or more accurately not as fast as she’d prefer according to her timeline.

What she had in mind when she got this idea was that she would start to interview House-Elf in Hogwarts right away – she’d give herself additional 2 or 3 weeks leniency for persuading them in case they’re still hold a grudge about SPEW – but overall she’d get her all necessary information from the interview in one week maximal, she already had a list of questions she wanted to ask anyway so it should be quick.

In between, she’d research on the households listed in the record and also get every additional book of lore or tale about House-Elf, so by the second month she should be able to draw conclusion from her data and formulating plan for her proposal. If she could work more efficiently, the final draft should be ready on the third month and with enough persistent she might succeed to pass Hickman and Fieldwake in around the same time as before so finally before summer was over she could present her draft to Wizengamot – and hopefully it’d pass.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t schoolwork where everything was only between her and the fast collection of Hogwarts library. It was more than finding the right book and how much effort she could muster, because this was real work and there were many external variables she couldn’t control. First month was one death end after another.

There’s no definite conclusion she could pull from the Household List. She’s right that many of the family listed there were old wizarding family who were on their, at least, 20th generation and could trace their magical ancestry to hundreds years before them but it was only about one third of the list. Almost half were only have 5 magical generations and even the last name added to the list was a wizard who’s both parents were Muggleborn and yet he owned House-Elf when he was still in his thirties. She had a nagging feeling that there must be some important point she missed.

The wizard was the only one who knew when the Elf started her servitude; that an Elf had come to him and asking for shelter in exchange with his service. As he was single and lived alone, he didn’t see any harm in taking the offer. Other owner who’s willing to answer her questioning didn’t know how their House-Elves had come to their family as they were already in the family for generations. But none of them would let her to interview their Elves and she reckoned that pushing further would only raise suspicion.

Just so she could get House-Elf perspective, she approached Kreacher but no result either. Although after the war he no longer felt any disdain to her for her blood, the feeling now was turn into mix of resentment and apprehension as he believed that she was poisoning his Master to free him. Even with Harry ordering him to answer her questions, he still found a way to dodge by giving short or ambiguous answers which end spectacularly with his wailing when Harry threaten him with his freedom if he didn’t answer clearly and Hermione knew that she had lost this battle.

So many unanswered questions, like why some long standing wizarding families didn’t own House-Elf could be reasoned by them didn’t like intrusion – just like what Neville said about his grandmother – but she couldn’t find good explanation on why two old magical families like the Lovegood or the Weasley couldn’t afford them. With Mrs Weasley character there’s a possibility that she only use it as an excuse and her real reason was that she didn’t want intrusion as well but the Lovegood were a magical creature lover so they might own one just for their observation and not for the Elf servitude. She’d need to find better alternative source of information, the right book.

Hogwarts was also a death end, or delayed for now. The letter from Headmistress McGonagall came three days after she sent her inquiry, suggesting her to do her official visit in summer as to not disturbing students who’s preparing for exam. Her former Professor also mentioned that she’d be welcomed to visit the library as well, showed that she could read between the lines and correctly guessing her other intention.

It wasn’t that the Ministry Library was lacking, it just that with her current credential she could only access the Third Section and she’d already consumed all books related to House-Elf there – plus several book related about magical creature as well and review it again three times just to make sure that she didn’t miss anything important – but she couldn’t find anything new or helpful. The Second and First Section were restricted for a good reason; the collection in those two sections was either rare, ancient, or contained confidential information. Not only that they were not permitted to be brought out of the building, the one from the First Section was not allowed to leave the library.

To get access to the Second Section, every Ministry employee would need permit from _their_ own Head of Department and after her last stunt there’s no way Hickman would give her that. She could bypassed him and at the same time got access to the First Section as well by getting permission from Kingsley but when the idea occurred to her, he’s just leaving for a trip abroad and his secretary only mentioned that he would return in three weeks, nothing about his whereabouts or whether he could be reach via post or not. 

Of course she could do some book-hunting in bookshops or even order some rare books, but the one available didn’t give her satisfying information and some potential books she could order was way beyond her budget so again her option was back to library.

And her already sour mood became worse when she joined the Weasley weekend gathering at the Burrow as she’d later know more about this seemingly hasty diplomatic trip. Apparently the reason was Quidditch, or precisely Quidditch World Cup.

The 424th Quidditch World Cup was supposed to be held in Russia, but they suddenly announced their withdrawal from hosting the event, citing some ‘restructuration’ in their Muggle Government as the main reason for the withdrawal. Venezuela who hosted the previous tournament had declined the offer as replacement candidate for undisclosed reason. Meanwhile, New Zealand – where the 2006 event would take place – declared that they weren’t ready if they had to hold it 4 years earlier.

Nobody know how those information had leaked to the media before the International Confederation of Wizards’ Quidditch Committee ready with any concrete plan, but the uproar worldwide was so ridiculous such if a near-catastrophic disaster was about to happened, it was unprecedented for a Quidditch World Cup to be cancelled because of no venue. So the Committee held an emergency bidding, which was the current topic of discussion in the Weasley’s weekend gathering.

“What’s the big deal anyway, nobody will die if for once we don’t have Quidditch World Cup,” Hermione commented loftily. Her mood was bad with another week of no progress and she’s very tired of hearing talk about Quidditch World Cup everywhere.

“It’s Quidditch Hermione, of course it’s a big deal!” Ron protested, looked completely appealed.

Hermione eyed him sceptically. “So big that the Minister of Magic needs to handle it himself?” she scoffed indelicately. If it’s not for this trip, she’d already get his signature for her permit so at least she might find something for her House-Elf research. “Normally this would be handled by Department of Magical Games and Sports, maybe with some assistance from Department of International Magical Cooperation, but for Kingsley to interfere is a bit excessive.”

“I don’t think so,” Percy interjected. Among all Weasley children who were no longer lived in the Burrow, he’s the only one who never missed this weekend gathering, either because of his guilt or as his way to repent on what he had done prior to the war.

“With what happen during World Cup 1994 and later in Triwizard Tournament, we wouldn’t even be considered as contender. But with Kingley, we may get some chance. I heard he extends his trip to several other countries to gather more support.”

“Wow, Percy. Finally comes the day when you agree with me!” Ron cheered.

“Yes I agree that it’s important to win this bid, but not for your reasoning, Ron,” he reiterated. “Successfully hosting an event as big as Quidditch World Cup would be a strategic move to re-establish British Ministry of Magic’s standing in International Wizarding Community. After what happened during the Dark Lord regime, we almost lost our seat in the International Confederation of Wizards. Not to mention it would also be good for British economy.”

“It would certainly give additional moral boost for British too, especially as Wales had also passed Qualification,” Harry agreed. “Even though two years ago England lost spectacularly in the first match, but just by participating it had lifted everyone’s spirit up to recover after the last battle.”

“And for sure it raised Kingsley’ popularity to cement his position as permanent Minister,” Ron added in between chewing his pie.

Hermione responded by shaking her head and muttered, “Politic, sport, and boys. I’ll never understand,” that got her a snicker from Ginny who overheard her as she sat right next to her.

As the boys, and Ginny, continued their conversation about Quidditch and their excitement over the possibility of hosting the World Championship, Hermione entertained herself with her glass of pumpkin juice.

Maybe taking pity of her, Mr Weasley offered her a polite query, “I heard you were pulled to join Clun Case, Hermione.”

Hermione moved her gaze to the head table and nodded. “Yes, Mr Weasley. It seems Baldwin put some good words about me after Durham. Issue about werewolf is still divided between Being and Beast Division anyway, so it rather makes sense if Erskine asked someone from my Division,” she replied, tried not to sound too boastful.

“So it’s really werewolf?”

“We still don’t have any conclusion. It can be Animagus or a big wild dog or an escaped illegal wolf roaming during full moon. We knew the cause of death was from stabbing, not from the bite wound. It could be a Muggle crime, that’s why it was handled by DRCMC and not DMLE even though there’s casualty. The problem is we found residual magic close to the crime scene and it’s new. We know that no wizard lives in the area, but later we found that apparently there’s a Muggle-born nearby. He’s only six so there’s nothing we could do with him.”

“I see,” Mr Weasley nodded thoughtfully. “It will be a big embarrassment to make a fuss in DMLE then find out that it’s just a dog in Muggle crime and a toddler’s accidental magic, but at the same time it’s unwise to dismiss it with only an assumption and result in another victim if it’s indeed werewolf attack. Osbert wants Hickman to take the fall, wonder why he agreed.”

Hermione sighed, “The werewolf possibility was strongly highlighted. If only we ever had further research on werewolf, we might have enough information to distinguished werewolf bite from mere dog bite, maybe something like DNA, so just by taking sample from the bite we can determined whether it’s werewolf or not.”

“I know, right.” Harry, who at some point started to listen, joined in the conversation. “Sometimes I envy Muggle Police for their fingerprint or DNA database. It helps a lot in finding the perpetrator and proved their crime or at least gives us some preliminary clue. If this is really Muggle crime, I bet Police will find the culprit faster than us.”

At Mr Weasley clueless stare, Hermione said, “Remember when we discussed about cloning, Mr Weasley. Muggle has discovered that each person is unique, such as each person has different fingerprint. Let take this knife for example. They has developed some methods so they can determine whether this knife was been used to stab someone or who ever hold it by checking the trace of blood or fingerprint on it even when this knife looks clean.”

“Wow, fascinating.”

“We can trace magic residue too, ‘Mione,” refuted Ron, didn’t like to hear the implication that wizard was inferior to Muggle. “And we also have Veritaserum, Pensieve, and Prior Incantatem.”

“That’s the thing, Ron,” Hermione argued back. “Remember Quidditch World Cup on our Fourth Year? The spell proved that Harry’s wand was the one that made the Dark Mark and we had nothing to prove that it wasn’t Harry who did it. If it wasn’t Harry, I don’t think he’d be acquitted that easily.”

“Second year when Dobby did magic in my aunt’s home and they accused me just because I was the only wizard lived there,” Harry added. “If it was someone stealing my wand and killed people using it, I’d surely been thrown to Azkaban without question. Remember Sirius?”

“Okay, it wasn’t perfect. But still better than nothing, right,” Ron grunted.

Harry took off his glasses and wiped it. “I’m thinking why nobody ever thought of combining magical methods with Muggle one. I mean, even magical person has fingerprint and DNA, right?”

He directed the question towards Hermione but she didn’t respond, she was deep in thought. Hearing Harry mentioning about ‘combining methods’, ‘magical’, ‘fingerprint’, and ‘DNA’ gave her an idea. If only she had a right book to confirm it.

***

Since it’s not possible to introduce or even applying fingerprint and DNA concepts into wizarding community, her idea was – just like those two points – each wizard _might_ have unique magical signature. After all it’s possible to create a ward which only allowed specific person to pass it or Apparate in, meaning that there’s a way to distinguish one person from another magically. Detecting magic residue and tracing magic were also possible so it’s just the matter of ‘imaging’ it, and then discovered the pattern so it could be compared to find its match.

For now it wouldn’t be as ambitious as to collect a database, but only to prove if the residual magic in Clun was matching with the Muggle-born kid. If it did, then they’d have stronger ground to veer to the possibility that it wasn’t magical related incident. And if it didn’t, at least the method could still be useful for other case.

Though when she told Erskine on Monday, he still thought that kind of ‘project’ was too big and too complex for them, it was more of something that Department of Mystery or maybe DMLE would do. However, he agreed to do it for now as currently they couldn’t come up with something better than ‘brush the bush and find a stray dog’ – since by now everyone was quite sure that it wasn’t werewolf but was forced to investigate and presented concrete evidence.

He even agreed to help her getting access permit from Hickman. But even with such valid reason Hickman still refused to sign her permit and gave it to Erskine instead, which didn’t really help much since Erskine wasn’t in the team and as the Head of Beast Division he had his own job to do.

In his limited capacity Erskine did try to help by getting her some books, but not what she had in mind (not that she knew what books were in there). The thing about book was that when you had no idea on what the exact title of the book you’re looking for, you had to search it yourself. She couldn’t really ask him to get her some books about House-Elf as well so it also meant that her project on House-Elf met another seat back.

And Hickman permission was only valid for 1 month too, in which the first two weeks was with no result. Luckily before their permit expired, Kingsley had returned. He’s back 3 days later than planned and Hermione flew to his office once she heard the news. She had no more time to waste.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Kingsley praised as she finished telling him on her idea about identifying magical signature. “There were a lot of things to do with our judiciary. Especially how we tried and sentenced defendant at court, mostly was based only in testimonial or circumstantial evidence. If this idea of yours is working, we can prevent punishing the innocent and it will be harder to exonerate the criminal as well.”

Hermione beamed. “So, will you sign my permit?” she asked.

“Of course.” He flicked his wand and a parchment flew into his hand. He pulled his quill to sign it before tapped it with his wand to add the authorisation. “Three months, that’s the maximum I can give. Yes, I reckon that most likely you won’t succeed in only three months,” he quickly rectified seeing protest or plea forming on her lip. “It’s the rule Hermione, just come to me again one week after it expired and I’ll give you new permit.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you.” She grabbed the parchment, readied to take her excuse.

“And I’ll have some personnel from DMLE to join you.”

Hermione stopped mid-standing, she flopped herself down into the chair again. “I’m sorry sir, but this case is under my department and I don’t think Hickman will like it if I involve other department,” she expressed her doubt carefully.

Kingsley chuckled. “It wasn’t a suggestion, Hermione. It’s an order from Minister of Magic so I’m sure your Head of Department will understand,” he told her neutrally. “If this works, it will benefit Law Enforcement more than Magical Creature so it’s only fair that they put their hand in doing the hard work instead of just taking the end result. This rivalry between departments is getting ridiculous. I’d like for Unspeakable to lend their hand in this as well, but at your current stage of research I don’t think I can persuade Croaker yet.”

From there on, everything seemed to get better for her. While her three colleagues from Beast Division were far from incompetent, but their proficiency was beast so it’s natural that they were used to do a ‘rough’ job and didn’t really interested in doing meticulous job like analysing or schematising magical trace. They did try to help, but there’s not much they could do so in two weeks they’d worked they achieved nothing.

However, with the addition of Nigel from Improper Use of Magic Office and Martin from Investigation Department, they made significant progress. The two men had more expertise in this field. From their discussion, they managed to translate her idea into more concrete concept so they could formulate a better plan on how to achieve it.

An access to all sections in Ministry library was certainly help too. In fact, Hermione was almost passed out from hyperventilating over her excitement seeing the collection in the First Section. Not only the rare books were lined up there, but also centuries old tomes – some were thought to be lost in time – to the ancient parchments of some early spell which were radiating magic on its own due to its age (sadly, only Unspeakable could have the clearance to access it).

And finally summer came. Headmistress McGonagall specifically told her that she would only have summer for her research so whatever she’d need from Hogwarts she would have to get it before September. Of course in the meantime she couldn’t abandon her research on magical signature as well. Sure, the guys from DMLE were competent so it went along faster than before, but it’s her idea so it would be wrong if she didn’t make some contribution too.

Suddenly, she had too much things to do at once and she’s twice busier than before with two ongoing projects running at the same time. Back then when someone had told her that NEWT was the most exhausting event she’d encounter in her whole life, that person surely had lied to her because this was worse. But that thought had not even crossed her mind yet when she strolled excitedly to the Entrance Hall the first morning of that summer with Hagrid and Neville on her sides.

Knowing that Neville would also be going to Hogwarts, it’s only reasonable to arrange their trip together. And then when they were greeted by Hagrid when they arrived in Hogwarts’ ground, it was impossible to go to the castle without having a cup of tea with him first – luckily they intentionally arrived early so they won’t be late for their appointment. He even insisted to escort them to the castle as if they were thirteen years old students.

“I guess this is as far as you can escort us, Hagrid,” Neville said when they arrived in front of the Griffin statue that guarding the headmistress’ office door. “Don’t worry, I have Hermione with me so I won’t get lost,” he added lightly.

Hagrid let out a laugh, but it was short and didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’ hesitate ter stop by, will yeh,” the half-giant uttered solemnly.

That made Hermione realise why Hagrid was rather reluctant to let them go, he was lonely. With Dumbledore now gone, afternoon tea with Hogwarts headmaster would not be the same as the current headmistress had completely different character than her predecessor. And having conversation with Grawp certainly was different than with her, Harry, and Ron.

With how rigorous the early year as Auror could be, naturally Harry and Ron might not have time to go as far as Scotland to visit him. She didn’t have any right to criticise them either because even when she had been in Hogwarts to complete her education, her visit could be counted with one hand. Since he never knew about their fallout, every time she had visited him he always talked about her two friends and though it was unintentional, for her it felt like rubbing an open wound so she just stopped coming to his hut. Later on she was busy with her new job and reaching Hagrid just never crossed her mind.

Guilt started to creep in her chest, she promptly replied, “Sure. And maybe I’ll drag Harry and Ron to come here with me too.” As afterthought, she promised herself that she’d at least write.

“And I’ll be here, Hagrid. I think it would be weird if I still hang around with students, but I don’t think I’m ready to sit with the professors as well so I’ll just go to you,” Neville remarked.

“Hey, he’s a professor too you know.”

This time Hagrid roared in a heartily laugh at that statement, followed by chuckle from his two younger companion. When they parted, he left them with a smile on his lip.

While Hermione’s appointment was clear, Neville had forgotten to include the exact meeting time in his last correspondent. To make it simple, Hermione suggested to just come inside together and let McGonagall decided who she wanted to talk first.

“Ah Miss Granger, right on time,” the school headmistress greeted her as she emerged behind the door, Neville followed. “Mr Longbottom? Good you’re arrived together, we can do this in one sitting then.” She made a gesture with her hand, signalling them to take a seat.

“Well, welcome back to Hogwarts,” she started and that’s the only pleasantries she gave as she then continues straight to the reason of this meeting.

“Mr Longbottom, I’m glad you decided to join my staff. You’ll be under Professor Sprout tutelage so for all arrangement please speak directly with her, I will not interfere. But as you won’t officially become staff until she retire, I’m sorry we can’t provide accommodation for you here but feel free to peruse the library if you need, both of you.” She pointed her finger to her two former student in front of her. “Madam Pince won’t be there but I hope I can trust both of you not to do anything that can invite her wrath. You’re no longer student here, so I’ll remind you that you’re not allowed to take any book out from the library.”

“What? But Prof- Headmistress, what if –,” Hermione sputtered.

“That’s the rule, Miss Granger, and you’ll abide it,” McGonagall cut her in sternly. “Don’t do anything unnecessary, I’ll know if there’s single paper pass the library’s ward. There’ll be no curfew, you’re free to come and go as you want but just don’t take anything out. Though I won’t advise you to set a camp in the library, you still have works to do in London right, Miss Granger.” She said her last sentence lightly almost as if she teased her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In her trademark no-nonsense tone she continued, “There’s no schedule meal in Great Hall throughout summer, so either please go to kitchen or make your own arrangement with them.” She directed her stare to Hermione. “I’ve heard your entire stunt while you’re a student here, Miss Granger. Albus might think deliberately leaving knitted hats scattered around your dorm for House Elves to find with the intention to free them was funny, but I don’t. They’re part of my staff and I need them to ensure that this school can operate smoothly. So can I take your word that you will not do anything that will offend them like that again or abuse your authority as ministry official, Miss Granger?”

Hermione cast down her eyes, cheeks pink, feeling like she was a student again being reprimanded. She could only murmured, “Yes, Professor.”

“Good,” she noted evenly. “Mr Filch and Professor Hagrid will always be around if you need anything.”

That’s the cue for them that this meeting was over. Neville hurriedly stood up and made his excuse, but Hermione didn’t move from where she was.

McGonagall raised her eyebrow, queried, “Miss Granger?”

“There’s something else that I’d like to discuss with you, Headmistress. If you don’t mind,” requested Hermione tentatively.

She peered at her former student through her square glasses for a moment before inclined her head slightly in affirmation and then shifted her gaze to Neville to dismiss him.

“So how can I help you, Miss Granger?” she asked forthrightly once the door was closed and his footsteps weren’t heard anymore.

Hermione took a short breath to gain some little time to phrase her sentence. “We have a side project about indentifying magical signature. The goal is to be able to identify the spell caster even thought he uses someone else’s wand. I wonder can you perhaps give me some pointer on that matter, Headmistress.”

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting,” she reflected. “It’s difficult but not impossible. Maybe start with Trace or Blood Ward, but I’m sure your team already reach the same conjecture. I suggest you talk with Professor Flitwick, he’s more knowledgeable in this field than me.”

“One more question, Headmistress. It’s pertaining House-Elf,” Hermione paused to observe her former Head of House’s reaction. She didn’t look like she would chastise her again so she continued, “Do you know who the owner of every House-Elf which lives here? In the list it only states Hogwarts.”

She gave her a faint smile. “It is as it states, Miss Granger. They belong to Hogwarts.”

“How?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? They serve Hogwarts. That why your action with the knitted hat was very offensive, Miss Granger. Even if the staffs give them clothes, or I do as Head of the school, it won’t free them,” she explained plainly. “This castle isn’t a resident that can be inherited based on bloodline. People come and go so it’s not practical and not possible to have a single master.”

Hermione went quiet, contemplating the new information she’d just heard. Several theories were flying around in her mind. She really needed to find a book or had some statement from any House-Elf to confirm it or it would stay as speculation.

“Anything else, Miss Granger?” The firm voice of the Headmistress broke her train of thought.

She shook her head. “No, that’s all for now.” She picked her bag and raised up from the chair to take her leave.

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall called her when her hand reached the doorknob. “Professor Flitwick will have an extended trip throughout summer in two weeks, so maybe you want to make it as priority.”

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

How she wished she still got ahold of a Time Turner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On December 1999 Boris Yeltsin unexpectedly resigned and Vladimir Putin assumed the role as Acting President of the Russian Federation (later on he won the presidential election in early 2000). From what I’ve read, during his first presidency he had couple of prudent economic and fiscal policies (Russian economy grew for eight straight years, it said something!). So I imagine in his early days in office, he rebuffed the Russian Minister of Magic when he informed him about Quidditch World Cup. There’s bigger problem in the country and more important than organising ‘broomstick football’.
> 
> I’m not Russian so I don’t really know what really happen in that country back then. But I have couple of Russian friends, they’re very nice so I just want to mention their country here somehow, even only in small capacity.


	9. Repartee

“Oh come on, Hermione. Everyone needs to eat, even you!”

Hermione clutched the books in her arm tighter as the lift made another turn. She was on her way back from Ministry Library when she caught the same lift as Ron who’s on his way to his lunch break, thus was how she had to deal with his incessant prodding to go with him.

“I planned to just grab some sandwich and finishing my report, Ron. And there’s still research about magical signature and some other thing too,” she trailed off adamantly, hoping that Ron wouldn’t prod for detail.

On the contrary, he was completely disinterested. “You mean the rubbish they called sandwich? Let’s find something better. The weather is nice and you are in needs to leave your desk,” he cajoled her. “Besides, I barely see you this month.”

It was his last sentence and the way he said it – little bit of pout and hurt with a slash accusing tone underneath – that made her cave. “Let me store this in my desk first.”

These past weeks she had been super busy. If Ron claimed that he barely saw her, it was very true as she even rarely saw Ginny and they were flatmate. Basically she only came home to sleep and nothing else. And after the third apology letter to Mrs Weasley, she just asked Ginny to tell her mother not to expect her attendance in their weekend gathering throughout summer.

Indeed she had been formally assigned to handle Hogwarts so spending her working hour in Scotland would be acceptable. Nonetheless, going back and forth between London and Scotland every day was very impractical and she couldn’t spend her whole summer there either. In the end, she thought that using one week of her ministry time in Hogwarts was within reason. During that period, she rented a room at The Three Broomsticks instead of staying in Hog’s Head like Neville. It had nothing to do with her impression on Aberfoth. Yes, it was cheaper but she preferred to sleep in the comfy place over the dingy one.

After the one week stay, she only went to Hogwarts on weekend. Madam Rosmerta had kindly let her use her Floo and reserved one room just for her to use. Hence her new routine: Monday to Friday she’d be in London working at the Ministry like usual, then on Friday night she’d Floo straight to The Three Broomsticks to spend her night there before went to the castle the next morning and Monday morning she’d go directly to Ministry Atrium after early breakfast at the inn. It’s hectic, but fortunately her whole travail wasn’t for nothing.

Her discussion with Flitwick had given her several good directives, especially in the art of Warding. Goblin was notorious for their deftness in Warding due to their protectiveness on their possession, even better than wizard which was why they were put in charge of wizard’s gold. Those skills were almost never shared outside their own circle to prevent breach from thieves, especially wizards. That’s why just like in Gringotts, it was only Goblins who would deal with the protection while wizards were merely a user. Their ward was mostly based on _magical signature_ to identify who could access the treasure.

With his wizard blood in him, Flitwick was considered to be an outsider among Goblin. However he still had more knowledge on it than average wizard and like a true Ravenclaw, he’s always opened to share his knowledge to anyone who sought it. Their discussion was intellectually stimulating as he never gave her an easy direct answer and forced her to think it herself instead. And even though by the time he’d left for his trip she hadn’t solved her problem yet, but she’d had definite plan on how she wanted to approach it.

Sadly she couldn’t say the same for her House-Elf project.

Although during her final year the House-Elves were quite welcoming towards her every time she had come to the kitchen for meal, but once they knew she came in her capacity as House-Elf Relocation Officer and started asking them about their employment at this school, they were on alert and up in arms against her. It was almost five years ago, but apparently they still hold grudge about the knitted hats and quickly became suspicious that this was her other attempt to kick them out from the castle.

It took her seventeen days and lots of help from Neville persuading them to let her enter the kitchen again. From then on Hermione only did her original task. But she hasn’t given up, by carefully arranging her word choice she tried to coax some information. Nevertheless, under the pretence of doing head count, the only new information she managed to draw was that all Elves currently lived there were born in the castle, there was no new House-Elf coming to Hogwarts in more than 200 years other than Dobby and Winky.

“Hermione!”

Her head snapped from her plate, giving him a questioning look.

“And here I was so happy that you finally don’t bring any book to our lunch,” Ron grimaced dejectedly.

And Hermione was hit by another wave of guilt. If it wasn’t because of none of the books (safely secured in her desk) were forbidden to be brought outside the Ministry building, then she would have one or two on her hand right now. In her defence, she just wanted to make the most of her time, including her break. And besides that, she had a limit on how long she could bear hearing Ron moaning about his work before she tore off something. She’s aware that reading on lunch table was rude, but her level of tolerance wasn’t as high as Harry and book was a good distraction to prevent her from snapping.

“Jonas berated you for not reading some biographical data,” she echoed his last rant, indicating that she’s listening. It’s not the first time she had to let her ears did its work independently while her brain was busy with other stuff.

“Yes, and very trivial,” he nodded in agreement. Satisfied with Hermione apparent attention, he continued with his complain. “I mean, why I need to read about his family tree or his work history. My job is to catch him, so he should teach me how to duel or some new spell instead of giving me pile of unimportant file.”

“Well, maybe he’s teaching you about profiling. After all it’s important in your job to know who you’re dealing with,” she offered her opinion.

Ron shook his head in negation. “We have Investigator for that. They gather information for us Auror and we arrest the criminal. We have our own role; they do the research, we deal with the dirty work. If Auror has to do everything, then what will Investigator do?”

Hermione didn’t argue back, instead she returned her attention to her salad – or to be exact, separating beans and lettuce to the opposite side of the plate. Ron had stated that the shooter’s sandwich from this shop was the best, he claimed that its steak was to die for, but she didn’t really have an appetite for heavy meal.

“You’re still in Clun Case?”

Hermione was startled for a moment with the sudden shift of conversation to her, but she welcomed the change.

“Yes. I am.” She gladly shared the progress, “I think we already have a clear picture on this magical signature, though we still need to figure how to distinguish it with the spell pattern itself.”

But before she could tell him more, he interrupted her, “Do you ever think that you push yourself too hard, Hermione? I know you love researching, but you barely have time for yourself. And what you’re doing now ,” he paused, wringing an open palm on her direction. “If you think that House-Elf is your passion why don’t you just stick with it. Okay, you were assigned to Clun, but it’s just ... side job, not your main one. Why you have to put too much effort for a side job?”

“It’s important. And it may bring huge change in the future, I’m happy to contribute.”

“You’re just being an overachiever. Take it easy, okay. You’re lucky your workload isn’t as much as mine. You should enjoy it while you can,” Ron said dismissively and following a large chunk of his sandwich, his rant continued. “You know what other useless thing Jonas had put me through? If I hear another word about Warding again, my brain will explode! So, yesterday he ... .“

Hermione took a deep breath to tamper her displeasure, swallowed back all the words which she reckoned would only lead to quarrel if she let it out. She took a bite of potato, trying to salvage her appetite.

Two new costumers took the table next to them, too deep in their heated debate that they didn’t care if their conversation was heard by other. Several faces had indeed turned to them, curious on what they’re talking about, only to quickly ignore them when they caught on. Hermione knew why. From what she could gather through the Muffling Charm, the two gentlemen were debating about how to handle a cursed object – something that many didn’t bother to care.

But Hermione was interested. Surreptitiously, she flicked her wand so she could hear better.

“... then it will be fixed,” said the guy in a blue robes convincingly.

“How many times I have to tell you, it’s too dangerous. I’m sick of covering your ass every time you make a mess.”

“And what you’re suggesting? One layer will trigger the next, it’s impossible to break it one by one. Our best bet is to smash it in one go.”

“No-no-no, you saw what happened yesterday,” his co-worker refused. “I’m thinking of isolating it so we can handle it separately.”

“And pray tell how you will do it since we haven’t tried it before.”

Disregarding the sarcasm that was thrown to him, he expounded, “I’m not talking of separating it using spell, but seal each one so it’s isolated from one another.”

“Ah, you’re talking about Runes!”

His friend’s nod confirmed that he had caught on his train of thought. At the same time, Hermione got a ‘light bulb’ moment.

The next second she frantically rummaged through her bag and cursed when she couldn’t find her notebook, it must be left on her desk. But she needed to write it down now before she missed anything in her fast track mind.

Ron watched her warily. “Hermione? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry Ron, I have to go now.”

Without giving him time to respond, she dashed to the door and Disapparated to the Ministry; her brain already started formulating her thought and her finger was twitching as if she couldn’t be fast enough to get hold on her pen – which was exactly what she did when she arrived at her desk. For something like this, a pen was superior to a quill in assisting her hand to keep up with her brain. Self-Inking Quill was a good innovation, but pen had better shape for faster movement.

It wasn’t for long though, the placid and controlled vibes that characterised the Goblin Division was suddenly broken by a loud cheering, followed by excited roar, exuberant screeching, and thunderous claps. The long scribed line at the end of her neatly written calculation was a proof on how bad it startled her.

She groaned as the boisterousness didn’t show any indication of dying down, “What’s wrong with those people? It’s working hour!”

“We won the bid!” cried Martin happily.

“What bid?”

“Quidditch!” He then proceeded to make another overenthusiastic high five with Phillip. Even Lorna and Ronan were clapping, complete with a wide smile plastered in their face.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh, catching Lorna’s eyes she noted in defeat, “Nobody will continue working today, right?”

Lorna shook her head and her smile turned into full blown laugh at Hermione’s miserable face.

“Just join the celebration, Hermione. They’ve been working overtime scrapping the budget to win this and it will only be busier from here, so I’m sure they’ll party hard for the remaining of the day. And I’m not exaggerating when I say something like this is happening in the other departments right now.”

Hermione only chuckled wryly and packed her belonging instead. Lucky for her, she still had one place in this building where she’s sure nobody would disturb her. And by nobody, she also meant the other person who frequented the place beside her. Ron had mentioned that Harry would be ‘away’ for awhile which meant that Malfoy wouldn’t be around as well. The Balcony would be hers alone for today.

A swift whirl of her wand to transfigure one of her pencil into a wooden table and in no time it was covered by scroll of parchments and couple of opened tomes. However, as the clock ticked and the frown on her forehead increased, not so much could be said for her calculation. Several form of Runes for isolation, separation, and seclusion were splashed over a series of numbers and symbols in various sequences, but she wasn’t even close in figuring out how she could make it worked.

“Gah, it’s hopeless!!” she wailed, banging her head on the table in frustration.

A snicker was heard from her right, followed by a mocking drawl, “Well-well-well, what do we have here?”

Under Hermione’s withering look, conveying a clear message to not cross her, he leisurely glided closer and stopped in front of her. Undeterred with her unspoken warning – the table between them – he returned her scathing glare with his most infuriating smirk.

“When I agreed to share this place with you, I don’t remember allowing you to move your workplace here, Granger. It’s not even one year yet and not only you invaded my retreat space, but you also took over my bench,” said Malfoy while shaking his head contemptuously, his tone was mildly admonitory.

Hermione went still for exactly two seconds when she realised where she was sitting, but she wasn’t in any mood for verbal jabs. “This place is part of British Ministry building so as far as I’m aware, I have as much right as you to be here,” she snapped, mustering as much as dignity she could gather.

Truthfully, she had no particular reason why she picked this bench, more like propensity. Almost every time she’d come here, Malfoy had already been occupying this bench so she always tended to stir to this side of the Balcony. She never sat there, instead she’d lean on the balustrade to enjoy the scenery.

Sure, there were other empty benches on the other side if she wanted to sit but it would look like an obvious attempt to avoid him. Or that’s how she tried to reason to herself for if she’s being honest, maybe she was just reminiscing their library encounter. It was very similar after all; with them sharing a hiding place, mostly indulge in their own mind in silence with occasional words exchange about random topic of their interest. So just like that winter, habitually she searched for those blond locks to find which corner she should go once she crossed the door.

The bench was also relatively more hidden than the other, situated in a blind spot from the door and protected by the shadow of neighbouring building. Perfect for her needs, so she just made herself comfortable.

Not even bothered to return her glare, he swept the table with his eyes and stopped at her notebook. Tilting his head to have a better look, he noted, “Is that your little project with Arrington?”

“Yes,” she sighed, conceded that he wouldn’t go away. She didn’t even put any resistance when Malfoy pried her notebook from under her elbow.

He took a quick glance at her calculation. A frown appeared between his brows, he put it down on the table again to review it more carefully. More than once, he tapped his finger to some point before continued to the next line.

“You’re trying to contain magical residue and breaking it down,” he started. He glanced at her but she only reclined her back on the bench and folded her arm on her stomach, so he continued, “But this will not working, Granger.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Malfoy,” she scoffed.

He threw the notebook to her. “Give it to Arrington, he’s good with Warding and Sealing Charm.”

“He’s busy with his own work,” she said matter-of-factly.

“And you’re not? Or is it just your first instinct to do everything yourself?” He quirked a brow slightly. His palm was laid on the table and he leaned his weight on it. “You’re assuming, Granger. Last I check, he’s busy partying with his mates.”

She leaned forward, almost pushing the table with her hard grip on its edge. “I know how to work in a team, Malfoy,” she seethed, didn’t like what he’s insinuating. Her frustration had made her fuse shorter, but she could blame it to her long day.

Waving a flippant hand, he said, “It’s okay Granger, I understand. Working together with Potter _and Weasley_ at the same time for too long must be taxing so you’d get used to just do everything yourself. I knew how it felt like, after all I myself spent more than six years with two dunderheads.”

She gapped incredulously. “You’re despicable! No matter how they are, aren’t they your friends?”

“Typical Gryffindor’s response.” he responded indifferently. “They’re following me because it benefits them, so why can’t I use them for my benefit as well?”

“So that’s how you view relationship? Seeking benefit?”

“Oh don’t be hypocrite, Granger. I’m just saying that every association has purpose, we have some expectation from it. Be honest, in what you call friendship, from time to time you expect something from them so do they, right? Even children expect their parent to provide a good life for them and parents at the very least expect their children to carry their family legacy. It’s a barter.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelieve. “It sounds like you’re okay in using people like a tool to achieve your goal. After what you’ve been through, you’re supposed to know better, Malfoy.”

“You’re not listening, Granger,” he scowled. “Every creature will naturally seek for mutualistic relation. And unless your self-righteousness has reached a new high, I don’t think even you want to spend your life with a parasite latching on you. There’s nothing wrong in letting people doing some work for me, especially if they’re capable, so I can do something else that only I can do.” 

He assessed her with his most condescending look and added, “I hope your pride can take it Granger, but from what you’ve written there, Arrington can do better than you.”

Her temper immediately flared she might have breath fire. She felt insulted, but what prevented her from lashing out was the fact that she couldn’t contradict him – which only made her angrier.

She wasn’t that naive to think that in general, association between two individuals was always unconditional. That’s not how it worked in real life. No matter how Harry revered Dumbledore, sometimes she couldn’t help to think that the former Headmaster had ‘used’ her friend like some pawn for _the greater good_. Deep down, she also had to admit that she had her own selfish reason in befriending and helping him. In an essence, relationship was about give and take anyway. Not to mentioned she wasn’t even above in using someone either when necessary. She would be a big hypocrite to say otherwise, not that she would articulate her admission to Malfoy. He was also right about Martin.

Remembering the two Martins helped to lessen her anger. They shared first name and were around same age, yet their personality couldn’t be more different. While her office co-worker was a laid back young father, the Investigator was an unmalleable man similar to Percy (minus his pompousness). He’s very capable in his job and if it’s not for him, they won’t be this far in this magical signature project, she could admit it. However, it was harder for her to admit she had problem in asking help.

Being the only child of two working parents, she was used to be independent. The bullying she went through throughout her childhood had turned her to be overachiever as a way to prove herself. Then the way Harry and Ron always depended on her in almost everything since they became friend also didn’t help her ego. She often said that she hated how the papers gave her the moniker of ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age’, but secretly she liked having her ego stroked. So it did bother her when she didn’t contribute much, this project was her idea to begin with, it’s hers.

And today two persons had pointed out that tendency. Ron she could ignore, he often teased her as Know-It-All or even a high strung since they were eleven just like he did to his older brother. But hearing Malfoy phrased it at her face made her getting defensive. Being angry or shouted at him would only show that he won so she just bit the inner side of her lower lip, pressed the said lips into a thin line, and had to be satisfied with only sending him a cold piercing glare which she hoped would slice him to pieces.

Knowing that he wouldn’t get any refutation Malfoy sniggered, his patented smug expression was back decorating his face. Even his gait as he walked to the balustrade made Hermione itching to throw something to the back of his head. Lucky for him, she managed to control herself.

Her tone was still on edge when she asked, “What you’re doing here? I heard you’ll be gone for long.”

“Change plan,” he answered nonchalantly. He opened the lower side of his cloak, something like belted satchels was visible under, tightly bound to his body.

“You’re not running away from Harry, aren’t you?” she mocked. The side of her mouth twitched, half hearty tried to stifle her snicker.

“Very funny, Granger,” he sneered. “I know they don’t like me around here, but it will take more than sending me to a goose chase and a Potter to make me quit this job.”

“Because this is something you have to do yourself?” she remarked blandly.

Malfoy didn’t respond, instead he took out a medium-sized carton box, slightly larger than the satchels itself so there must be some kind of Extension Charm in it. Silently Hermione was impressed. Until now she never knew any people who used it beside herself, but for a job like an Auror it was make sense if they used it. She wondered why her two friends never bother with it.

“Many people still find it strange that you took this job,” Hermione noted, fishing any reaction from him. For some reason, she reckoned if she could make him angry then it meant she won this battle. “They presumed you’d prefer easier job.”

“I have my reason.” Another short reply.

From where she was, she gathered that the cartoon box contained food, or sandwiches as it was what Malfoy had taken. A side glance to the horizon, she realised that it must be past dinner from how low the sun had sunk. It made her conscious on her hunger, she didn’t eat anything during lunch after all. But instead of focusing on her revolting stomach or a glimpse of beef on Malfoy’s bite, she shifted her attention to the flicker of magic on the package.

“Clever,” she commented, attracting his gaze to her direction. She relaxed her back when she elaborated, “Putting Static Charm on the wrapping paper. Most tend to cast it on the food, a guarantee for a trip to St Mungo's for severe indigestion when they forget to lift the charm before they eat it.”

“Want some?” He proffered the box to her.

Hermione was taken aback by his response, she expected him to gloat of his trick but not for his offering. “No, thanks. I’ll grab some dinner on my way home,” she declined. At least she managed not to make sound like a sputter.

Ignoring her refusal, he dropped the box on the table. It was full of several type of sandwich, even Ron would find it hard to devour it in one sitting.

“Why on earth you bring so many, Malfoy? Do you want to feed the whole department to gain their sympathy?”

He rolled his eyes at her comment. “As you said previously Granger, I was supposed to be away for awhile. Pippin always makes a fuss that I’m well feed since he know how abysmal the food in my job can be – and you know, the stuff about that if I die he dies as well.”

“Well, in that case I’m not going to compromise your life then,” she gave another reason to turn down his offer.

“Up to you,” he said flippantly. He didn’t move to reclaim his packed meal though. “But if you end up fainting for hunger, you’re on your own. Nobody knows this place beside us and there’s no way I will tell anyone that you’re unconscious here because they’ll throw me to Azkaban without question asked.”

“And how would I know that this wasn’t poisoned?” she questioned in light tone.

“Oh, bravo!” He clapped his left hand to his right wrist. “You’ve seen through my scheme, Granger. After my fail attempt on Potter, it would be too obvious if he died poisoned after his trip with me. But what a waste of effort if I just throw it, right.”

Resisting her urge to smile, she played off an adamant concession. “Fine. I guess it won’t kill you if I take one. But if I die, I’ll haunt you for your whole life, Malfoy.”

“Oh, joy! Just exactly what I want.”

Hermione peered inside the box, rummaged through it with her eyes. The wrapping papers were almost transparent so it’s easy to know what sandwich it was. She’s still considering which she wanted to eat when her eyes caught it; slices of white bread, cut diagonally and no crusts, grilled fish fingers and lettuces visible in between. A soft chuckle slipped as a memory flashed through her mind. It tasted different than how she remembered, but only one bite and her irritation was completely dissipated.

She stole a side glance to Malfoy. He was quietly eating, his body leaning on the balustrade, eyes fixed to the city. Just in case he was in agreeable mood, Hermione tried, “Malfoy, can I interview Pippin?”

“No.” He didn’t even look at her.

“Should I get you a formal notice?” she pushed further.

He shifted his attention to her, eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled. “Try harder, Granger. He was the one who bind himself to me _without_ my knowledge so technically I can claim no ownership of him, so I had no obligation to report my _affiliation_ with him. On the contrary, you might get him in trouble instead.”

Hermione huffed a short breath through her mouth loudly. Recognising her defeat, she took another bite of sandwich and reached one book she planned to finish, _Metamorphoses of a Were_. It might be a good intermezzo over Runes and Arithmancy.

“I thought everyone was convinced it wasn’t werewolf.”

Following his gaze, she noted that he was referring to the book in her hand.

“Yup. The case is as good as closed, Muggle polices had captured the perpetrator, a Muggle.”

Few seconds passed in silence so she thought her answer would end this conversation and she could go back to her book.

“Merlin, it is your next crusade!” he exclaimed.

Closing the book, she predicted this would lead to long debate. “Kingsley is considering about reopening Werewolf Support Service so he asked me to make some preliminary assessment since it’s in my division and I’ve been in close acquaintance with one before.”

“Don’t tell me your idea is by knocking their door, telling them to come out from their hiding and live happily side by side with us?” He’d finished his sandwich and vanished the crumbled wrapping paper with his wand.

“Why not? They have the same right as us. Fine, you can argue that House-Elf is different creature than wizard, but not werewolf. Yet they’ve been treated unfairly. Those prejudices Malfoy, is why we’re in war; that deep seated prejudice that have driven our world to War,” she argued vehemently.

Malfoy shook his head in pity. “Do you always measure everything only by your own standard, Granger?”

“What you mean?”

“Would you say that they should have their representative in Wizengamot as well?”

“That ... Yes.” She hadn’t thought that far, but it was logical.

“When will you start your campaign for abolishing Statue of Secrecy then? By your standard, we should have rights to practise our magic openly among Muggles. And tell me Granger, how many representatives do we have in Muggle’s Parliament?”

“That’s different!” she protested. Her nostrils flared as she tried to suppress her building anger. How could he bait her easily she couldn’t understand.

“How so? We’re British citizen as well, Granger,” he said flatly.

“But – .”

“You Gryffindor need to work on subtlety and diplomacy, not just charging like a blind Hippogriff. You realise your idea of equality has potential to recreate another witch-hunt, this time between wizard and werewolf?” he criticised her, almost felt like chastising her.

“Surely you can’t be that naive, Granger,” he continued. “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from the war; people will be more wary not for something that completely different than them, but of anomaly especially if it has power. Some like you may embrace it, some other will feel threaten and do their utmost to eradicate it. It’s human nature, Granger.”

For few seconds Hermione only stared at him, lips slightly open with its side twitching, speechless. She was shaken from her daze when he cleared his throat, throwing her a sharp glare.

“Sorry. It just ... I’m _astonished_ to hear you imply that Muggles hold more power than wizards,” she told him, truly stunned.

“I’m not blind, Granger,” he retorted. “For one thing, we lose in numbers. And though with magic wizard might be able to do lot of horrible things, but I know that Muggle can do the same, even worse. Do you think it was a coincidence that they moved their Arm Force Headquarter next to our Ministry? Even back then when we built it for Wizards' Council, this place was part of the main residence of the English monarchs and mind you, it was an era when witch-hunt was at its peak around Europe.”

She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hand, looked amused. “You sure know a lot, Malfoy. I don’t remember this was covered in our History of Magic class.”

“I’m not illiterate.”

“Your past action didn’t indicate it,” she quipped, though lacking of accusing tone.

“Even the simplest creature existed will do _everything_ to survive, Granger.” His smirk was bitter.

\---***---

_Time was infinite, nobody knew when it began or whether would it ended. Even for him as the Intueor, he couldn’t See that far. He knew that it had no limit, so he might be as good as lost if he ever tried. For his role was to Watch it unfolded, not to study it or to interfere._

_Time would always run on its course, to certain direction with its own rules nobody should try to understand how or why. There would be Disturbance in the Tide if one should try, creating Ripple. When it happened, it was his duty to fix it. In doing so he needed to look to every possibility, then he’d know how to counter it without too much Interference which to avoid increasing the damage. It was like a very thin and delicate thread he’d need to handle fastidiously._

_Unusually, all he could do was to step aside so the Tide could reinstate itself. He might even have to leave as his presence could become Disturbance. Only in such occasion, he could be found outside his Grove. As of late, more often than not he’d visit the Stream just to observe her playing with the flowing light._

_“It seems you’ve castigated Phiero quite hard this time,” she said, her eyes fixed to the scintillating light on her hand._

_“Did he tell you that, O’ Praeses?” he queried from where he sat under the tree._

_The light burst, just to rejoin again to the Stream. “He’s hurt,” she said._

_“I can’t comprehend how mere words can hurt. It can’t even touch.”_

_“It does. You just can’t see the wound it creates. And it can even reach deeper than a touch of a hand.”_

_He was quiet in contemplation, though it didn’t show in his collected expression. “Still, he is the Praevians, he should possess enough wisdom to perceive his responsibility. We’re not part of that world,” he remarked._

_“He has a kind heart.” She looked at him with a serene smile on her face, then took steps towards the tree. “Although I agree that he should know his boundary,” she added in reproachful tone._

_He let out a slight smile. “He takes too much interest in human and it starts to affect his judgement,” he reasoned._

_“They are interesting creature indeed. I can understand why he likes to observe them. In his place, I’ll do the same.” She lowered herself to settle beside him and leaned on the tree. _

_“Please don’t do that, Amber,” he implored. ”Even though I would prefer to have an audience with you more than him, I shudder to imagine what will happen to this place if you switch your role. At least this way, I can always control the damage of every careless action he did.”_

_It brought a lovely crisp sound of laugh from her mouth. “You flatter me,” she said. As her laugh subsided, she tilted her head to eye him curiously. “You observe human as much as he did, yet you dislike them.”_

_“They’re full of contradictory. Even nobody choose that path when it’s time for them to bind themselves to Earth.”_

_She blinked. “But it what makes them interesting, right?”_

_“Only if you think as outsider who doesn’t care of the consequences they bring upon themselves and their surroundings. They know what good for them yet they do the opposite and they destroy things they should care. I can’t never fathom why creatures of that character were Gifted with Magic.”_

_“In my observation, they have fulfilled their role well,” she defended._

_He shook his head despondently. “Not for long, they’re too easy to be tempted with power, envy for the one without and greed for the one who wield it. They will either try to use the other or destroy it when it fails, either way it will lead to conflict and they’ll be too busy with their own desire. It won’t be long before they lose sight of the true nature of Magic. It’s human nature.”_

_Her finger brushed his hand. A foreign sensation travelled through his body from the small brief contact, a strange feeling he couldn’t describe. He trailed his gaze from his hand up to her eyes. It emitted warmth and tenderness._

_“Give them chance, they will learn. It’s part of growing.”_

_His eyes couldn’t leave hers, enthralled by the depth of her gaze. Even if he’s able, he’d prefer to stay. He understood that he’s not supposed to Feel, emotion wasn’t part of him. But given chance, he would be willing to know._

_“How can you be so genuine, Amber?” he asked in wonder._

_“And you’re too cynical,” she noted. “You surely know that is part of their Trial, some will fail but other will prevail. You can’t judge them for it.”_

_Suddenly her eyes lit up, full of mirth. “Oh, I can’t help but wonder how you’ll be if you have to undergo that path.”_

_“Can I? I’m not Earthy,” he remarked. “Though if it comes to you, I will not wish for you to choose that path; to go through the pain and agony.”_

_She broke their eye lock. Turning her head to face the pond, she whispered, “We’d never know what Fate has for us.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, the building that was referred to in chapter 4 is the Ministry of Defence Main Building or MOD Main Building also known as MOD Whitehall, originally was Whitehall Garden Building. I find it amusing if the British Ministry of Magic somehow is located next to or even _under_ the British Ministry of Defence Headquarter (who’s watching who?).


	10. Wound

“Harry?” Hermione called in low volume as she crossed the foyer so not to wake Walburga’s portrait.

Although that’s not the reason of her wariness, entering an empty house with an unlocked door was never end with good discovery. Instinctively, she reached her wand from its holster.

The place was cleaner than the last time she’d been here, but the poor light throughout the hallway and the grim colour wallpaper didn’t really help in reducing the ominous feeling emitted, it only built up as she went further. And though she knew what awaited her in the end of corridor, it still startled her to be greeted by a row of House-Elf’s heads mounted on the wall, otherwise she might had shrieked in horror. Too bad, all their attempts to remove it were fruitless and not enough cajoling (or threatening) could persuade Kreacher to help.

“Kitchen!” She got her answer on her second call.

Hermione walked into the kitchen and found Harry nursing a cup of coffee. Without even gave him chance to greet her a good morning, she started her tirade, “What make you think it’s a good idea to leave the door unlocked, Harry? You’re just as bad as Ginny, what if someone enter and catch you unprepared? And you’re an Auror for god sake!”

He was stunned for a moment, but was disenchanted by Hermione’s admonishing glare.

“Good morning to you too, Hermione. Coffee?“ He got a scathing glare for that comment, but he calmly sipped his drink instead. “Care to tell me which of you are planning to attack me here?”

Hermione started to open mouth, ready for a long lecture, but Harry merely lifted a challenging eyebrow and she closed it again. Beside Harry, there’re only five people who had access to this place and none was likely to harm Harry.

After the war and her hasty leave to Australia, Harry had been living like a hermit in Grimmauld Place. He had asked a favour from Kingsley to put the house under new Fidelius Charm with him as his own Secret Keeper. Not only did he made the place Unplottable, he completed his seclusion by cutting the Floo network and casting Blood Wards around the house, which meant he’s the only one who could Apparate in and out since he didn’t have any magical living family.

Initially, only Kingsley had access to him which didn’t sit well for Mrs Weasley and Ron. But he’d needed time alone and he knew the two of them would fuss over him, so to appease them he gave the address to Mr Weasley knowing that he would understand his need for space. Even though later on he told Ron after they found their ground during their early Auror days, then her and Ginny after they mended their friendship. Mrs Weasley wasn’t amused to be left out, but since there’s also small possibility of her visiting Hermione and Ginny’s flat (she wasn’t comfortable to venture to Muggle neighbourhood alone and both girl were rarely at home anyway) and they always spared their time to visit the Burrow, in the end she accepted her defeat.

“You look bad,” she muttered instead.

That was an understatement. The blacken eye bags showed that he’s in dire need of sleep, his unruly hair was worse than normal and from his shirt, it seemed like he’d hadn’t even care to change clothes before rolling into a restless night.

Hermione took the seat next to him. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah, real nightmare.” Seeing her apprehension, he rectified, “Not _that nightmare_, but a ‘futile lead after two days nonstop of goose chase’ kind of nightmare. Actually I was only home around twenty minutes ago, I know you’re coming so I didn’t see why I have to lock the door.”

It didn’t erase the worry in her eyes. “You know, few weeks ago Ron said that I work too much, but never do I look like a zombie like you two.”

“It comes with the occupation.”

“And help you to sleep,” she surmised sedately, side glancing him.

He snickered wryly. “Exactly, I’ll be too tired to have any dream then.” He returned her glance with a solemn look. “Is that why you did it too?”

“I’m getting better,” she assured him. “I am. Ask Ginny if you don’t believe me. She hasn’t come rushing to my room in the middle of the night since New Year.”

“Or you’re just getting better silencing your room,” Harry doubted.

“You know I can’t use magic much in my flat,” she refuted. “Make myself busy is one thing, but I’ve been writing journal for almost two years and it helps, especially after some bad dream. Sure I have Ginny, but sometime I don’t think she really understands.”

“Yeah, I know. It often feel like that too when I try talking with Ron and he’s been by my side most of the time,” he began. “Every time we touch that topic, I only see guilt in his eyes and instead of feeling better, I make me feel bad so I just avoid it all together. I know it wasn’t his fault, but sometimes I’m angry on how he almost looks unscathed by this war. I wonder is it wizard’s thing.”

“What you mean?”

“How easy everyone had bounced back after Voldemort.” He focused his gaze on his coffee and elaborated, “Just few months after a mass manslaughter at Great Hall, everything went normal in short period. Maybe just like how easy it is to kill someone with just a flick of a wand, it’s easier to dismiss the feeling in the aftermath. You break a glass and with a simple _Reparo_, it looks like it’s never shattered. Or maybe living a relatively peaceful life in Muggle world had spoilt us so we aren’t prepared with the nasty part of wizarding history. I mean, a civil war in 20th century Britain?”

The history of wizarding world was indeed more colourful in term of conflict compared to its Muggle counterpart. Every decade or two, there always seemed to be a major upheaval happened and it wasn’t only in Britain. It almost as if wizarding Europe was stuck in medieval era. Maybe that’s why there was never a record of Wizarding World War, each country was too busy with their own internal discord to care about invading other by force, and they had to think about concealing it from Muggle as well so it would be too much effort.

Knowing well how Harry felt about that particular battle, she tried to distract him before he succumbed on his self-blame. “Well, it would seem so. After all, that is the least you can expect from people who encouraging a ludicrous sport to a twelve years old where they can intentionally aim an iron ball to someone head. I can’t fathom how parents will let their kids play in a game where broken bone is common.”

“Hey, Quidditch isn’t that bad! Even you can break some bone playing football,” he protested. Something crossed his mind that made him cackled.

“Imagine what if I ever go to psychiatrist. Either they’ll think I have very good imagination with flying sport and dragon or I’m straight crazy. The closest diagnose they can pull most likely is that I suffer side effect of child abuse I had at my uncle’s house.”

Hermione giggled. “Now that you mentioned it, I wonder maybe many conflicts in wizarding world could be prevented if only wizards learn about psychology.”

In some way, wizardkind medical field might be superior than Muggle’s ; from stitching open wound in second to re-growing bones, something that was impossible for Muggle. However, it’s all about physical damage, mental health was a topic that never heard in wizarding world. There was Mind Healer, but they dealt with mind that was affected by spell, not psychiatry.

“Like counselling Tom Riddle from turning into Voldemort? Yeah, maybe. After all, he might only need some hugs or a cuddle,” Harry joked. “Will it be your next project, Hermione? I mean, once in awhile you might need to save your own kind, right?”

“Did you forget the seven years I was running around with you?” Hermione jibbed.

At that, Harry broke a hearty laugh. As he controlled it, he chortled, “Well, writing journal sounds good too. At least if it doesn’t work, I can get money from publishing it. I’m sure many would want to buy it.”

They shared a mirth look, both had Rita Skeeter in mind, and another laugh blew. Only after another minutes, their laugh completely dissipated.

“So, why you want to meet here today?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment before she answered, “Erm, I want to try something, but if you’re too tired we can do it other time.”

“No worry, I’ve been without sleep for three days before and I survived. So?” he pressed.

Hermione still looked unconvinced, but she conceded. “I can’t explain it to you yet, but do you trust me, Harry?” she said apprehensively.

“Okay, now you scare me,” Harry admitted. “But I trusted you with my life before Hermione, I don’t see why I have to doubt you now.”

“Alright.” She opened her handbag and summoned her notebook from inside. There’s a piece of paper that seemed to be used as bookmark, but she took it and handed it to him. “I want you to give this order to Kreacher.”

As he read every word written there, his eyes were expanding. “Hermione, are you sure? This paper state–,“

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not forcing you to do this, so if you think you can’t do this then it’s okay. But I’d appreciate it if you can help me with this,” she implored.

Harry moved his gaze between the paper and his friend for a time. “Okay,” he said. “By the way, what’s your mother’s name again?” He asked in flippant tone, but it made him got an incredulous frown from the brunette. “I just want to make sure that it’s you, Hermione. Come on, everyone who know you will think that this instruction is very unlike you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed, “My parents _were_ Elizabeth and Richard Granger, but now they go with Monica and Wendel Wilkin.”

“Right, even Ron doesn’t know that,” Harry contemplated. “Can you at least tell me why?”

“Not yet.”

He sighed. “Fine. Then I will blindly trust your judgement, that you’ll never put me in an unsavoury situation.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

With a call of his name, the old Elf appeared before them. He bowed so deep until his snout-like nose almost touching the floor.

“Master Harry need Kreacher, sir?” he asked in his raspy voice.

Harry glanced at Hermione one last time. “If this turn bad, I’ll hold you responsible,” he hissed.

Kreacher watched their exchange suspiciously and what looked like a fear glinted in his eyes when his Master’s friend gave a firm nod to his Master.

Harry turned to the creature, ignoring his obvious fright he declared, “Kreacher, by my magic I, Harry James Potter, Master of 12 Grimmauld Place, grant you permission to stay in 12 Grimmauld Place, for you and your future descendant. Must you never leave this house.”

“Sir?” Kreacher gasped, his already huge eyes widened furthermore at the declaration. But nothing happened except of tears that started to pool on his eyes.

“Hermione?” A bawling House-Elf had never made him comfortable which was well known by the Elf, thus he never failed to exploit it.

“Wait, I’m forgetting something. Ah, use your wand! Point it on ... his forehead and say it again.”

“Miss Hermione!” Now he’s wailing.

Harry didn’t take his eyes from Kreacher. “You sure? He’s crying.”

“Trust me.”

He did as she said. At the end of the sentence, a weak flicker of light appeared from the tip of his wand for a second and disappeared. Kreacher was rotted in his place, crying a river by now.

“What now?” Harry grimaced.

“Give him clothes.”

Not only Harry who was surprised by her word but Kreacher too, though with better side effect as he stopped crying. Sensing his chance, Harry grabbed his cloak from the table and placed it on Kreacher’s shoulder.

“For Kreacher, sir?” Taken aback by the lack of protestation, Harry only gave short affirmation. The Elf smiled so wide it added more wrinkles on his face. “Thank you, sir. Kreacher will wear it.”

Harry sent a quizzical stare at Hermione which was answered by a nod. He dismissed Kreacher and returned to his coffee, it’s already cold but better than nothing.

“Now, mind to tell me what was that?” he spoke without ceremony.

“I have some theories.” Reclaiming her previous chair, she wrote some additional remarks on her book quickly then said, “Well, it’s proven now and I might able to use it for my House-Elf proposal. But for it to work, I think it’ll be best if it remains secret for now.”

“At least tell me what it entails. I won’t tell anybody, promise.”

She bit her lower lip, considering. Under Harry incessant pleading stare, she conceded and started to talk. “This summer, I managed to gather some information from Hogwarts House-Elves. Do you know that even though technically they aren’t free, they don’t have a Master?” Harry shook his head. “They serve the castle, so giving them clothes will not free them.”

“Is that what you did with Kreacher earlier?”

“Correct. As the owner of this house, you ‘transfer’ his servitude from you to the house. He no longer tied to you, but to the house.”

“I don’t understand, I remember saying that Kreacher will never able to leave this house. I thought you want to release them from slavery, but it sounds like you just chain them further.”

Her mouth slid into a lopsided smile. “All this time, I’ve been wrong about House-Elf, Harry.” Harry looked surprise but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful he didn’t tease and instead waited for her to finish, this was what she loved about Harry.

”I want to ensure their welfare, but I was applying human standard to them and ignoring their nature, which is wrong because we’re different creature altogether. Well, not many were written about it and even someone who owns them for generation doesn’t have any knowledge about this, so it’s reasonable that I don’t know,” she reasoned, a bit defensively.

Harry didn’t comment so she concluded her explanation. “I can’t tell you in detail yet, but by transferring his servitude to this house there will be no threat of being free, Kreacher will feel more settle so he no longer compelled to punish himself. I promise I’ll answer all your question after everything about my House-Elf proposal is in place.”

Hermione could see that he had question but he restrained himself and didn’t say anything. It was only when she started packing, did he spoke.

“If you can’t tell me, why don’t you teach me about that Undetected Extendable Charm of yours for payment then?” He pointed to her handbag.

She blinked, wondering about the sudden interest. “I can cast it on any of your bag if you want,” she offered instead.

“No, I need to be able to do it myself,” he turned it down. “It will be good for my work, after all sometimes I can be sent somewhere unexpectedly for long duration so better be prepared for everything. Apparently the basic of the charm has been taught in class, then we have to develop it according to our own need, making our own arrangement so faster to find thing.

“I know that not everyone can do it, but Moody had his trunk, I saw Kingsley with his briefcase, hell even Malfoy has his sling bag! I’ve tried but haven’t got a knack on it and Gladwin didn’t know how to do it either so I just gave up. But I won’t have Malfoy mocking me just because he can while I can’t, so will you teach me?”

She chose to ignore the topic about Malfoy. “Sure. But hold on second, did I just hear you say that you didn’t go through proper Auror training?”

He affirmed, “Neville, Ron, and I were direct recruit so we got an exception. Not only on NEWT requirements but we didn’t need go through examination and in-class training since our experience during the war was considered to be equal as the training. The three years intern still applied though. So instead of in-class training, we were thrown straight to field and we’re expected to learn as we go.”

“Ron always complains that nobody ever teach him any useful spell.”

“That’s the problem with skipping the class, it all depends on your initiative and the mentor.” At Hermione’s curious stare, he elaborated, “I’m lucky to be paired with Gladwin. He mostly had answer for my every question and would let me have my way but would quickly interfere if I was making mistake. His lashing out was epic, but he made sure I knew my mistake. Jonas is different, he dictates what Ron must do, it’s almost sound like he’s ordering Ron around which doesn’t sit well for Ron. He’s also a man with few words, so Ron often misunderstands his instruction. But he’s a very good strategist, so I think that’s why Robards paired them up. Ron can learn so much from him.”

“Did you tell him that?”

He sighed heavily and nodded. “More than once, but nothing else I can do until my suggestion becomes a broken record. There’s a limit on how much I can help him, he needs to find his own way to deal with his problem. This learning by doing suits me better than learning in class, but sometime I think having a general training beforehand will help. Though I’m not sure whether I can pass it without your help, Hermione.”

“Oh, of course you can, Harry. You’re always better in Defence Against Dark Art than me,” she assured him.

“Well, maybe. I heard it’s very intense and taxing, that’s why not every applicant can pass it, few even quit in the middle of it. So imagine my surprise when I was told that Malfoy was top of his class and the last person who scored that high was Kingsley himself.”

Being his partner, it wasn’t strange if his name would come out. She just wasn’t sure on how she should respond without giving too much. She didn’t intentionally want to keep her encounter with Malfoy to be a secret from her friends, but she could guess how well the revelation would turn. An ugly argument with her closest friends over one or two civil conversations with the ex-Slytherin really was not a worthy prospect.

“If we ignore his prattish personality, I guess we can say that he’s not stupid,” she mused lightly.

“Indeed,” he chuckled. “But did you know that he’s an accomplished Occlumens as well? Perhaps that’s why he can stomach staying in that manor after all that happened there. Or he’s just more fuck up than us.”

He fell silent, looking down on his empty cup. Hermione could sense that he had something to say so she waited.

“I’m considering about learning Occlumency again. I heard it can help in compartmentalising your thought and emotion. It will benefit for my job too.”

His finger was rubbing the rim of his mug, no sound was produced but he kept doing that when he spoke. “I tried to visit Godric's Hollow. But the longest I’ve ever managed to stay before I felt suffocated was less than an hour. At this rate, I’ve no idea when I’ll be able to be in Hogwarts,“ he winced sceptically.

“The first month was very hard,” she said conversationally. “I skipped meal and hid in the library most of the time. Yet when everything around you kept going in normalcy, you end up being drift with the flow of the mass. Honestly, I can’t tell you whether I it was because I finally accepted it or I just felt numb.”

Emerald eyes met amber, exchanging unvoiced words.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she queried gently.

He shook his head. “No, this is something that I need to overcome alone. Don’t worry, I won’t hesitate to ask your help if I need any,” he added quickly at her upcoming protest.

The stiffness of her jaw indicated that she still had some opinion in this matter, but she decided to let it go for now and said, “Tell me if you need anything, okay.”

Harry nodded. “And you? Do you want me to go with you?” he echoed her offer.

He didn’t need to specify. Just from the way he looked at her, with an obvious concern and sympathetic understanding, she knew what he meant.

She gave him an assuaging smile. “I’m travelling by Portkey, Harry. It’s not that I’ll do anything, I’m just going to see them from afar.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll be fine. This is not the first time I see them after the war,” she reassured him. “You didn’t tell anyone about this right?”

He tensed, clearly disagreed with her request. “No. Though I’m sure if Ron or Ginny find out about this, they won’t be happy.”

“And they’ll insist to accompany me if they know,” she countered. “If it’s not because of you caught me arranging my Portkey, I will not even tell you. But as you said earlier, this is also something that I need to overcome alone,” she returned his words, knowing well that it would prevent him from barging to Portkey Office and abused his Auror badge and the Chosen One status to get information about her travel and chased her to Australia.

“Tell me straight away if you change your mind, okay. I’ll request Robards to put me on desk duty next week.” Trying to levitate the heavy atmosphere surrounding them, he asked, “You’ll come, right? This is your birthday party, Ron has been very enthusiastic in planning this for you.”

“At 7 in The Three Broomstick, right?” she verified. “I’ll be back by 2, there’s more than enough time. Honestly, you don’t need to organise a party for me, it isn’t on the actual date anyway.”

Harry grinned. “Won’t you give us chance to be a decent friend? It will only be a small party, with us four, Neville, Luna, and Hagrid. You’re the one who say that we need to visit Hagrid more, right? And Luna is just back from her expedition, don’t you want to hear what magical creature she discovers?”

“Ah, now I know that you only use me as excuse for a night out,” she deadpanned.

***

At 2 pm sharp, Hermione arrived at International Transit Area on the west side corner of the Atrium where she left 12 hours ago. A middle age man in maroon robes approached her to collect her used Portkey, he gestured if she felt like to use the loo or to take a seat on the nearby sofa while he confirming her identification. Fortunately, the sofa was comfortable enough to rest her head.

“You have a strong stomach, Miss Granger,”

She snickered in respond. “Is International Floo also this bad?”

He offered her a cup of ginger tea which she gladly accepted. “Let just say, there’s a reason why it losing favour in Britain.”

“Why? People vomit all their meal on every trip?” she joked.

“No, it’s more about safety. It’s hard to maintain the connection over the ocean.”

“I see.” Feeling that her nausea was completely gone, she gather her belonging and stood up. “Thank you for the tea, Mr Brook.”

He nodded his farewell and returned to his small office, waiting for the next arrival.

Like usual, she stopped by the fountain and looked up to the spark of light escaping through the leaves. At some point she closed her eyes, taking several long deep breaths, but the turmoil in her chest didn’t subside. Realising that she needed more time to gather her mind before she could meet anyone, she changed her direction, taking the lift to Level 1.

As she leaned on the balustrade looking at the city, she remembered how as a little girl she always loved spring. It was a season when the buds started to bloom, when the gloomy winter started to have colour. She often asked her mother why she didn’t bring her in spring so that she would always have a garden full of flower on her birthday. Ironically, only after she could no longer talk to her mother, she understood the nuance of autumn.

Or maybe they just needed to move to the other side of the world for her to get what she wanted. Few hours ago, for the first time in her life she celebrated her birthday in a garden full of blooming trees with her parents, only they were few yards away, not sitting on the same bench as her. Spending the day wandered around stalking them from afar, several time she almost give in to the temptation to approach them. However, her fear was stronger, she’s too afraid that they would recognise her.

Two years ago, she’d introduced herself as Hermione Granger after she purposely bumped into them in the park one morning. It had taken everything she had to keep her composure in front of them when she saw no recollection in their eyes. At that time, she still had some hope that their memories could be restored.

But now, knowing that they’d never get their memories as a Granger again, she’s not sure if she could prevent herself from breaking down in front of them if they remembered her, not as their daughter but as a British eighteen years old girl, who’d been spending her gap year travelling the world, they’ve met two years prior. It’s very possible since she met them several time in her attempt in restoring their memories.

Too tired, she plopped her body on her usual bench. The last few days she worked herself harder than usual, drafting her new Elf proposal as a distraction from thinking too much of the trip. Every time she let her mind wander, she would start to second guess herself. But she missed her parents and this trip would be her birthday present from herself, this birthday was special after all. Because although the Trace was lifted when they turned 17, for wizardkind the real milestone was when they turned 21. It was the time when they had full claim to take their place in the society.

The leaves hadn’t change colour yet, but the day was getting shorter and the air was colder. She reckoned she still had some time before the party and there’s high possibility that Ginny was ready for her mission to doll her up at home. As she closed her eyes, she thought maybe she could get some rest here for a moment. The Portkey left at 4 this morning and she didn’t sleep much either this week. A short nap before what might be a late night party surely wouldn’t hurt.

Alas, it turned into a long _nap_. When she’s startled awake, it’s already dark, her watch showed that it’s almost nine. She’s definitely late for her party.

Abandoning any plan to go to her flat first, she had no time to change her clothes let alone walked from her Apparition Point to her flat, she dashed as fast as she could to the Atrium and Floo straight to The Three Broomsticks.

For a Saturday night, there were less costumer in the bar, or maybe because it’s close to closing time. On the one of the table in the far corner, she saw blonde hair and a distinguish shade of red hair that belong to Luna and Ginny.

The latter didn’t waste a second to bombard her when she saw her. “Hermione! Where were you? Harry and Ron have been running around looking for you.”

She didn’t answer, but question back, “Where’s the other?”

“Neville and Hagrid has returned to Hogwarts, Harry and Ron are in London looking for you.”

“I’ve told them you’re here,” Luna added in a contrasting tone than Ginny, proffered her hand to show a Galleon that was their old DA coin.

The youngest Weasley hadn’t let her out of the hook yet. “It’s unusual for you to be late, what happen?” she pressed.

Hermione had just opened her mouth to answer, but before any word come out, she was interrupted.

“Oh, how gracious of you to finally grace us with your presence.” There he was, standing with his arms crossed on his chest, pierced her with his most virulent glare. Angry was an understatement, he looked ready to explode. “What kind of excuse you’ll have? Another little project of yours or you merely hide to avoid me?”

“I’m sorry I’m late, I–,” she started.

“Been spending your time with Arrington much, aren’t you? Were you really doing your newest saving the world project or you’re just having your little party with him?”

His tone unnerved her. She never expected that he could produce that level of hostility, but she knew she was in the wrong so she tried again, “Ron–,”

“A surprise for you, Hermione; you can’t save the world! Even your stupid House-Elf Bill will never–,”

“RON!”

It’s like time had moved at its full speed and suddenly someone pulled the break.

Both Harry and Ginny shouted. Hermione’s hand was raised, frozen half way. Ron’s eyes were wide in horror realising what he’d done, his mouth still opened but no sound came out to finish his sentence. The room was so tense you could cut it with a knife, breaths were held anticipating the onslaught

With a visible effort, Hermione clenched her fist, leaving a stern finger that she directed to his face. She was so furious she didn’t even think of reaching her wand.

“Don’t,” she hissed through her gridded teeth. “Don’t you ever dare to call it stupid. You have no right to say that.”

Ron’s face had turned white, but she wasn’t finished. “The only stupid thing that I’ve ever done was wasting my time to listen on your whining and moaning about your failure when I could use it to do something more important. What did you expect, Ron? For me to fix your problems like I always did to your homework? Maybe if you can stop being useless, you can start to grow up.”

Colour had returned to his check so fast, almost as red as before. But before anything was done, Ginny’s wand was quicker silencing him in a nearly at the same time as Harry snatched his arm to restrain him.

But Hermione had enough. She grabbed a glass closest to her, didn’t care what’s inside or whose it belong, and finished its content in one gulp. It burned her throat, but she’s too livid to notice. From the sound it produced, it’s surprising the glass wasn’t broken when she slammed it back to the table.

“Thank you for the party, guys. Don’t let me ruin your night,” she said in more controlled tone. “See you at home, Gin.”

She could hear Harry following her as Ginny was berating her brother, but she didn’t slow down. He eventually caught up when she stopped in front of the fireplace.

“His comments were uncalled for, but please understand that he’s worried about you, Hermione,” he mollified, trying to appease her. “Where were you? The Portkey Office said you already returned, but the front desk showed you haven’t left the building. Did anything happen to your parents?”

“Not now, Harry. I’m tired, it’s been a long day,” she told him, sounded apologetic. He didn’t deserve her anger, it wasn’t his fault.

Harry knew when to back down, so he just said, “Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

She nodded and threw the green powder to the fire. Maybe she’d take bus or tube later, she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t splinch herself if she Apparated home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you need help with the timeline, here they are (not including flashback):  
Chapter 1 => 1979/1980 to Spring 1994  
Chapter 2 => March 1999  
Chapter 3 => October 1999  
Chapter 4 => November 1999  
Chapter 5 => December 1999  
Chapter 6 => Christmas 1999 and early January 2000  
Chapter 7 => March 2000  
Chapter 8 => May-June 2000  
Chapter 9 => August 2000  
Chapter 10 => September 2000  
Next chapter will be set on New Year!


	11. Millennium

When assessing Kingsley Shacklebolt’s first few years as Minister of Magic, even the harshest critics had to admit that the man knew what he’s doing. In less than three years in office, he had managed to restore the law and order in Wizarding Britain, some might even said that he improved it, better than before Voldemort took the reign in British Ministry of Magic. One thing for certain, he knew about Public Relations better than his predecessors.

One year after the Battle of Hogwarts, there was a simple and sombre ceremony in the Ministry Atrium, more to remember the fallen instead of celebrating the victor. It wasn’t repeated on the year after as it was moved earlier to January, not to commemorating the war but as charity fundraising for those who were affected by the war. The message was clear, it’s time to move on.

And this year it was a full celebration. They had two big events to celebrate after all; the welcoming of new century and Britain winning the hosting rights for Quidditch World Cup. The future did look brighter.

So instead of invited-guest only kind of gathering in Ministry Atrium, now it was public celebration in form of a street party at Diagon Alley. Some of the business would open until late, especially pubs and restaurant but for those who prefer to mingle outside, the Ministry had provided couple of long tables full of free food and beverage.

But not for a group of several former members Dumbledore Army, they had chosen to gather in the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Their little gathering was held in the second floor as to not disturbing the shop below and with the window left wide open, they could still enjoy the festive outside as well.

“Oh look, I get you, Harry,” said Luna from the sofa.

Dean took the card from her hand and threw it to the stack of similar card on the table. “That’s the sixth, mate. You win!”

“Oh, for god’s sake!” he groaned. “Can you please stop that?!”

“Why? It means people recognise your part in defeating You-Know-Who, right,” Susan chimed in. “I have Morgana!”

Seeing a card with Dumbledore’s picture on the table next to his only grated Harry more. “As if everything was my doing.” He slumped on the armchair. “Everyone gave their contribution, some even bigger than me. I just did the final blow. Do you think it will end like this if Neville didn’t kill Nagini?” he declared, pointing his thumb to Neville.

“And fortunately, my face isn’t in the card. Appearing in Prophet once was more than enough,” Neville finished it for Harry, sending him a cheeky grin.

Few weeks prior to holiday season, Honeydukes had released new Chocolate Frog cards labelled as ‘the Golden Trio’ edition featuring Harry, Hermione, and Ron just like how they’d been dubbed in the papers in the aftermath of the war.

For their entertainment – but mostly to poke fun on the three of them – as their host, George had dropped three dozen Chocolate Frogs to play a game on who had most cards among the three, before leaving them on their own device to tend his shop.

“Honestly, I kind of expect something more than Chocolate Frog card. Order of Merlin First Class maybe.”

“Or statue!” Seamus shouted from his place near the window.

“I’ll _reducto_ it in an instant if anyone dares to make a statue of me!” Harry barked. “And Dean, there are other witches and wizards who are braver and had accomplished bigger thing than me to justify it.”

“Dealing with Voldemort since you wasn’t even twelve surely warrant a category in bravery,” Hemione noted gently. She also didn’t like to be put on display, but her raven haired friend deserved some credit.

“But even Dumbledore didn’t get the award only for defeating Grindelwald,” Harry asserted sedately. “Good thing Kingsley has more sense than handing the Order of Merlin like a candy. More than a recognition, it would feel more like a burden and the only thing I want is to live a peaceful life.”

At some point in the conversation, the room had gone quiet. The twenty years old Harry Potter was as nervous as his fifteen years old self when all attention were on him, just three seconds and he’s already squirming. Dean was the one who drew the attention to him in the first place and he was also the one who lifted it from him.

“Drink?” he offered, a glass of Firewhisky on his hand.

“No, I’m on duty.”

“If Muggle New Year celebration is as big as last year, I don’t think they’ll notice if there’s some slip from us.”

“Nah. We only need three persons who think like George and I guarantee it will make the whole department busy. By the way, I need to check that he won’t do anything tonight.”

“Oh come on, Harry. He might only light some of his fireworks and considering the spectacle last year, I don’t think Muggle will notice that it’s magical,” Dean tried to persuade him.

Before Harry could respond, Hermione interjected, “Doesn’t it suppose to be under Improper Use of Magic Office or maybe Patrol?”

“Just precaution. Kingsley want to have all ground covered.” Then he left downstairs.

With all Chocolate Frog had been opened, the ‘game’ was over. One by one they moved from the coffee table and spread around the room, engaging on their own conversation, until only Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Ron were left. Hermione was trying to follow the girls’ conversation, but between Quidditch and Wracksprut, she couldn’t decide which she preferred better.

“You look nice,” Ron said in a calm and even voice.

When she shifted her gaze, she saw that he didn’t look at her, his eyes were directed to the table where the cards scattered. There, lay the only card with her name on it. The picture that was used was her in formal dark robes with hair in a half-up messy knot tied by a clasp, her hand was holding stack of books tightly to her chest. It was basically how she looked every day at work, though she wondered how and when they got that picture. But magical photograph was easier to be manipulated anyway.

“Thank you,” she replied sincerely. It’s startled her that he tried to engage her in a chat. Nevertheless, she offered him a genuine smile when he looked up at her.

After their fight on September, thing hadn’t gone back to normal between them yet. He had apologised to her, so did she. Both acknowledged that they had gone too far with what they’d said, but understood that it was out of anger. Still, it didn’t mean that it was acceptable and they could brush it of like it was nothing, they had hurt each other with their words.

Ron had stopped asking her to have meal with him and when by chance they were out together, there’s always other person with them. During that occasion, he always acted skittish and overly careful around her. Gone was his easy comment and tactile behaviour as he mostly sat in silent and listened. And when he somehow was caught in conversation with her, it was stilled and would turn awkward rapidly.

“I handed in my notice to Robards three weeks ago, but with the hand over and re-assignment I’ll be working until end of January,” he stated plainly like it was nothing important.

Completely taken aback with the abrupt announcement, she was at a loss for words for few seconds and only blurted, “Harry never said anything.”

“I told him that I will tell everyone myself,” he replied, still in calm tone. He reached the card on the table, the one with his face plastered on it. There were two of his, but he only took one. His mouth slipped into a despondent smile as he read the card. “I have to stop being Harry Potter’s best friend. It’s time for me to find my path and be my own person.”

Unsure how she should respond to that, Hermione chose to take a neutral ground. “What’s your next plan then?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugged indifferently. “In the meantime, maybe I’ll help out here. George still hasn’t found someone to wait the counter, I can fill it up there.”

“What about Angelina?” She’d caught a glimpse of her attending the shop several times so she assumed that George had recruited another friend.

“She only helping when she has time, she has her own job,” Ron answered. “Lee also had job offer so he might not be able to work full time here as well.”

“George never said anything,” Ginny joined in. Apparently she’s also listening after Luna disappeared to who knew where. “I can always help here if necessary. He just needs to ask, I told him that. It’s not that I practise 24/7.”

“Lee hasn’t told him yet. It was Quidditch host commentator for a new sport show in wireless. As intern so he won’t have fix schedule yet. But if George knows, for sure he will tell him to take it, that’s why he was hesitant to tell him.”

“George won’t like it,” Ginny scoffed acerbically. “Using him as excuse to quit your job. He will not take you in.”

He sighed in exasperation. “Are you even listening, Gin? This is not about George, it’s about me searching what I really want to do.” He looked at his sister with a resigned stare. “It’s like I’m losing myself. Forcing myself to keep working as Auror feels like I’m heading to self destruction. I need to reconsider my option before it’s too late to turn back.”

The clock ticked by with no sound from either of them, making the air turned tense. It encapsulated them in an invisible bubble that isolated them from other people in the room who remained unaware on what transpired between the three persons sitting around the coffee table. Hermione nearly managed to compose a sentence, but Ginny beat her breaking the silence.

“I hope this won’t be our New Year tradition,” Ginny quipped flippantly. At the confused look from his brother, she added, “Quitting job. No, let me rephrase it; to have career change as New Year resolution. Last year it was Neville, this year it’s you, so who’s next? I think I can persuade George to make a bet on this. Do you have something in mind about your job lately, Hermione? But just for your information, I like my job. If Reggie can’t make me quit, nothing can.”

It effectively had lighten the atmosphere. Ron sniggered, some light had returned in his eyes. He mirrored Ginny’s motion, reclining his back on his chair.

As if suddenly remembering something, Ginny shifted her attention to Hermione. “Be prepared to be featured in next edition of Witch Weekly, Hermione. Skeeter will hear this and mark my word, she’ll milk it. I can imagine what the headline will be; ‘_Over Controlling Granger Forces War Hero to Sacrifice His Shining Career_’.”

“Urgh, that beetle.” Hermione plopped her head backward, hitting the top of the sofa. “She’ll slip soon and when it happens, I’ll be ready to squeeze her dry,” she vowed.

Ginny cheerily laughed. She patted her shoulder sympathetically as she passed her to the loo.

With the normalcy returned in everyday life, the society gossip column had also returned to the tabloid and Rita Skeeter had been leading it in full force. Being one of few who ever cornered the reporter, Hermione had become the top target. Added with her close relation with the renowned Harry Potter, any articles with her name on it would have significant selling point, thus how her name appeared frequently in Witch Weekly and at least once in a month in Daily Prophet. She’s out for blood, the gossip about Hermione was getting outrageously ridiculous.

From the attack on her job in Daily Prophet, it then shifted to her (non-existent) love life. In the beginning it was rather tame, continuing on the story she’d written during Triwizard Tournament, how their ‘love’ survived the whole ordeal of the war. Then the narrative took a drastic turn with the ‘revelation’ of how controlling she was in their relationship which led the Chosen One to seek comfort from the _Brighter_ Harpies’ New Chaser. The picture of the Golden Trio having lunch together got the headline of ‘_Third Wheel or Threesome_’ and how she planned to capitalised the two War Heroes as proven with picture of her going out with each separately. A snap of the scene from The Three Broomstick last September with her hand midair was used as evidence that not only she was controlling, but also abusive.

“Well, at least she’ll write me to have shining career,” Ron snickered. “It’s a shame we can be seen together more often. Usually she calls me a ‘good for nothing red head’ who’s riding on the Saviour’s coat tail.”

As much as he tried to play it off as a joke, Hermione could see the effort it took to keep his smile in place, so she didn’t laugh.

“Is this because of what I said?”

Her question immediately sobered him. “No.” Sensing that she wouldn’t believe that answered, he quickly admitted, “Partly. But it’s true that I can’t never free from Harry’s and your shadow if it stays like this. We’re not in school anymore, I really need to find my own path and make my own identity.”

He returned his gaze to his card, reminiscing. “When I told Jonas that I want to quit, he didn’t comment and asked me for a chess match instead.”

“Did you win?”

He scoffed acerbically. “No, I never won against him and that match was a landslide loss. I thought either he went easy on me in the past or he’d made a fool of me, so I asked and guess what he told me. He said that the match maybe on the board but not my opponent and on that game I wasn’t even paid attention to my board,” he recounted.

“I’m not sure what he’s trying to tell me Hermione, but I realise that if I don’t do anything and just charge forward, I will lose my game. So that’s what I do, retreat; assessing the board and regroup. By then, maybe we can also finally figure out what is this between us.” On the last sentence, he lifted his face and looked straight to her eyes.

Hermione blinked, unable to stand the expression on his face. This was a question she always tried to avoid. Luckily she was saved from responding by Harry’s appearance.

“Hermione, I need your help,” he said without preamble.

“What happen?”

“Your brother happens. Come on, it’s easier if I show you.”

Harry didn’t comment when Ron also stood up and trailing behind. 

“George set up firework display, it sets to light at midnight,” he explained while they’re strolling down the stair. “He purposely made it so it can’t be deactivated, including by him because he doesn’t want to be forced to cancel it. I tried, but if I break it by force, I will only ignite it. You know how their firework looks like, there’s no way it can be mistaken as Muggle firework. So help me before we need to deploy the whole ministry to mass Obliviate London.”

He led them to the back door and found that George had already waited them outside. Arm crossed and one brow arched in challenge, for a grown up wizard he looked more like a petulant toddler. At their appearance, he made a theatrical gesture to present a big wooden box before him.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and just waved her wand to see what she could do. After a while, she nodded her head in amusement. “He lied Harry, this can be deactivated. Though I’m not sure I can do it before midnight, so do you right, George?”

He clapped his hand in admiration. “I always know you’re smart, Granger. I prepared it for one week, Harry. Even for me who know the configuration, it will take at least 2 days to dismantle everything.”

Harry’s face which lit up at Hermione’s statement, fell down hearing that.

“This whole Alley is concealed from Muggle right, Harry?” chirped Ron, catching everyone’s attention. “If the concern is Muggle, as long as it doesn’t pass the boundary then it should be fine, right?” he suggested.

“Can you do that, George?” Harry demanded. “Don’t make me use my investor card to force you.”

He stood still with his arms crossed in defiance but with three pairs of eyes glaring dagger toward him, he recoiled, “Fine! You guys were no fun.” He summoned his tool box and started working.

“What are you doing?” Hermione couldn’t help herself not to ask.

George didn’t answer directly and kept his focus to the box. “I install filter there,” he grumbled, flicking his wand as finishing touch. “Not enough time to reconfigure, but the filter will trap more than half of the explosive. This supposes to be huge, you know.”

“Do it in Hogsmeade next year, George. You’ll have more people appreciate it.”

“Since you’re the one with the idea little Brother, use your muscle and carry this to the balcony upstairs. No magic and be careful, I don’t want to blow my shop.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by his brother’s caustic glare. He inclined his chin as a signal for him to hold the other side of the box. This option was more make sense as they have similar height.

Watching how this unfolded, Harry and Hermione shared a look and shook their head in amusement.

“How do you think it will look like?”

“Maybe another dragon,” Hermione suggested.

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry agreed. As they walked back inside, he spoke, “Erm Hermione, mind to tell me what exactly did you do to Kreacher last time? He’s been acting weird lately.”

The smile on her face quickly dissipated. “Weird? How?”

“You know that he used to randomly appear when I mention his name at home, right? It never happens again, not that I want it by the way. I don’t know how or why, but one morning I woke up and found the house was neat and clean. Even the row of heads on the wall has disappeared! And this is the strangest thing, just last week Bill finally found out how to remove Walburga’s portrait and you won’t believe this, Kreacher didn’t appear or made a fuss about it. If not from the meals that’s always served on the table every time I want to eat, I almost sure that Kreacher had run away.”

Hermione perked up, her lips twitched in interest. “Oh really? And how you remove the portrait?”

“Ask Bill if you want to know the detail, he’s better in explaining it. But in short, it involves blood – Black. We asked Andromeda, she might have been burned from tapestry, but she’s still Black by blood. But that’s not the problem. So, what happen to Kreacher?”

“You don’t like how he behaves?” she tried to evade.

“That’s not what I mean.” He rubbed his neck nervously. “I like it very much, okay. You should see it yourself, but Grimmauld Place is habitable now. And it’s nice not to have him following me around asking what he can do for me or dealing with his wailing. It’s just weird, like calm before the storm, as if he’s waiting to strike when I’m off guard. So, is this related to what you did?”

She clamped her mouth shut, contemplating. In becoming Auror, Harry seemed to have honed his _look_, the look that would compel you to give in to his request.

“Fine. Let’s sit inside, it’s cold here.”

They took the chair in front of the store room. After casting Muffling Charm around them, a sign that this was a secret and he should not share it to anybody without her approval, Hermione started to talk.

“I admitted to you that I was wrong about House-Elf, right? One of it is that they don’t need money. Remember, back then when Dobby worked at Hogwarts, how did he use his salary? He used it to buy socks of all things. It’s because their life necessities are different than us, what they need was our magic to live.”

“What you mean?” Harry was alerted.

Knowing what he assumed, she quickly expounded. “Not like that, Harry. They don’t suck our magic like vampire sucking blood, they can’t take magic directly from us. There’s a reason why they were called ‘House-Elf’, it’s because they _have_ to live in a house, _magical house_, or building to be exact. With the amount of magic we practise there, we leave a lot of magical residue in the building that will only accumulate over time. House-Elf uses it to sustain their life.”

“Then they can just stay, right?”

“No. It’s given, not taken. They need the owner permission,” she emphasised. “Not everyone wants to have stranger as a boarder in their house, the _master_ of the house can easily banish them from his house. As a _payment_, or let say a bargain, House-Elf offers their servitude in exchange for their stay. If their offer is rejected, there’s nothing they can’t do, they can’t force their stay.”

“And what binding with the house has anything to do with this?”

“Their stay was temporary unless the Master of the House bind them to his house, which is might be the reason why they’ll go very far to please their master, scurrying favour so they’d be granted with permanent stay at the house.”

“Why don’t they just ask?”

“They can’t. House-Elf can be as secretive as Centaur or Goblin, most likely they’re not allowed to tell outside of their kind so even with your order Kreacher could evade answering. It’s very hard for me to get the answer in Hogwarts, even when they don’t have a risk of being kicked out from the house. Luckily, I could trick Hogwarts’ Elves to answer with yes and no, that’s why all I have are theories and I kind of experiment it on Kreacher.”

“Risk? You mean being _freed_ with clothes?”

“Yes. This is purely speculation on my part, I couldn’t mentioned clothes in Hogwarts kitchen without they revolting.” She grimaced remembering the last time it happen. “As I said, not everyone wants to have a boarder in their home. My guess, it is a way for the house owner to send the elves go when they no longer wishes their presence. Clothes should have enough magical residues on it to sustain their life for when they travel to find new house.

“This is where wizardkind started to misuse it. When they knew about Elf dependency to the house and the meaning of clothes, they use it to blackmail House-Elf; do what they’re ordered or they’d be ousted from the house. And to make it worse, they started to feel compelled to punish themselves when they make mistake because they’re scare of being kicked out. It might then turn into norms later on. This is why I kept it secret, if it becomes well known it may backfired for my project.

“In a dire situation we’ll do _everything_ to survive, that’s every creature basic instinct. I mentioned that all Hogwarts’ House-Elves serve the castle, right? Not even once they ever punish themselves, nobody in the castle can force them to do thing they don’t want to do. Nonetheless, they take care of everything and everyone in the castle well, from cleaning to cooking.

“I quizzed several Pure-blood wizards who own House-Elf, and surprisingly they don’t have any idea about this bond. Maybe this was deemed unimportant so wizards just stopped passing this information to their heir so over time less people know.” She reached the end of her account. “Think Harry, if I can use their ignorance to make them perform this bond, it will solve every problem on House-Elf’s welfare.”

“So that’s your plan? Make it mandatory for wizards to bind their Elf to the house?”

She shook her head. “It will be too obvious, there’s no way I can make it pass Hickman, let alone Wizengamot. My new proposal is to add it as a suggestion in the Guidelines on House-Elf Welfare. Unlike Elf Regulation, it only needs Minister of Magic approval so my only problem is to make Hickman and Fieldwake to read it. And actually for now, it’s not really imperative so I’m not in hurry.”

“What you mean?”

She smirked conspiratorially. “I successfully tricked my top five targets into binding their Elves to their house. Technically I didn’t do anything illegal, but having it mentioned in the Guidelines will be good as my safety net. And for the future, so people will aware that this option exists.”

“Tricked?” Harry parroted.

“I might manipulate them to think that it was the best they can do to ensure their safety,” she shrugged. “I feel bad that I had to use Sirius and Dobby to achieve it. Basically I told them that Sirius death was indirectly because his Elf’s betrayal and how the Malfoy’s downfall was because you tricked him into giving Dobby a sock. So I kind of implying that permanent bond to the house will reduce the risk of the Elf betraying them since they no longer able to leave the house and accidental clothes won’t free them.”

“Hence the wording.” Harry nodded keenly.

Hermione perked up that her friend noticed it. “Yes, it will make them sound superior. And just like Kreacher, in all case the Elves were also crying so they really believe that it was for their benefit, not for the Elves.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair to trick them like that?”

“You don’t know how they abused them!” she fumed. “And we can’t do anything since the punishment was self inflicted so there’s no way to state it as servant abuse.” 

But he wasn’t convinced yet. “I’m not sure Hermione, it sounds risky. You concern about House-Elf, but what about the owner? Say, what if the Elf then taking over the house or pose some danger to the family live there?”

“Harry, House-Elf needs our magic. An empty building won’t have any use for Elf because at some point the magical residue there will run out. Even not all building with magical family reside there will suffice for them. Remember, both Luna and Ron were told that their family couldn’t afford House-Elf? But House-Elf is unpaid and no shop selling one – the House-Elf is the one who’ll come to their house offering – so no need to spare money to buy them. What can’t afford them is the house. The Lovegood House and the Burrow are rather new. In comparison, other buildings which are occupied by House-Elf in average are hundreds years old, which are few now. It would be hard for House-Elf to find a new one, so naturally they’ll make sure that whoever lives there will live well. It’s mutualistic symbiosis Harry, both parties benefit from this arrangement.”

She started to feel frustrated at why it’s hard for him to accept that this was the best solution, but she didn’t push him and gave him time to ponder instead.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. “Can this bond be cancelled?”

That was not the question she expected. Hermione wasn’t a person who would fidget, so seeing her nervous like that made Harry stared at her in horror.

“Hermione, please don’t tell me that you don’t know,” he pleaded, which was answered with a sheepish smile. He groaned, “Hermione, I love you and I trust you, but please tell me when you ask me to do it back then, you knew what you’re doing or _at least_ you had a plan for me if something went wrong.”

“But nothing happen.” Her friend narrowed his eyes, so she backpedalled. “Fine, I considered that there might be a possibility that something could go wrong. But in worst situation, you can just leave Grimmauld Place and stay somewhere. I’ll find you a flat and even pay for you. A flat mind you, not a house, I’m not that rich.”

She continued, “There’s no way I can ask any House-Elf on how to do it, but I’m sure there’s a way to unbind them from the house. My office was named Office for House-Elf Relocation, not House-Elf Liaison. I strongly believe that initially its purpose was to help House-Elf moving from one house to other and in some case it may include breaking their bond so they can leave. It’s only logical, the wizard do the binding so only wizard can unbind it.

“And I found an old file about a report from 1753, it recounts about relocating 5 _bonded_ House-Elves. There’s an incident that caused the family who own them died. No survivor in their line and the blood magic on the house prevented anyone outside their bloodline to inherit it so the house was abandoned. Sadly, some pages were missing and they were the one that contained the detail of the process. But since there’s mentioned of new address for each Elf, the unbinding must be successful.”

The loud noise from outside distracted their attention. It must be near midnight since the crowed had started the countdown.

“Come on, let’s see whether it was a good decision or not to let George go.”

She nodded and followed him to the front of the shop. They arrived outside right on time.

As the crowd shrieked deliriously, welcoming the New Year, a streak of light broke the dark sky above and exploded into a cascade of colour before converged to form a spectacular shape of a Dragon. It was still for a moment to give a time for the audience to admire it, then suddenly surged downward, parting the crowd to each side of the street.

A ruckus occurred as the Dragon lifted its head and roared, breathing a huge ball of fire which then burst. The fright turned into awe when from the raining of spark, materialised a Phoenix which then soared to the sky and dispersed quietly.

“Well, I think it was a good decision, Harry,” Hermione noted, clapping with everyone else at the magnificent spectacle.

This might be a good premonition. One thing for sure, this year had started with splendour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back then there was debate on when new millennium should be celebrated. Although the convention was that the 3rd millennium started at January 1st 2001 (there’s no year zero therefore first millennium was from the year 1 to the year 1000 so 3rd millennium should be from 2001 to 3000), but most of the world made big celebration at midnight between December 31st 1999 and January 1st 2000 as the zeroes rolling over gave more feeling of change.
> 
> Muggles _did_ have fireworks display to celebrate the year 2000 in London. Later, fireworks display was indeed also planned to celebrate 2001 but it was cancelled in November. The British Ministry of Magic might think that they could enjoy the display with the street party without knowing that it was cancelled. But fortunately we have George to save the night!


	12. Affiliation

“Okay, this is it. Seems like it’s the best we can do.”

He waved his wand and the simmering glow surrounding the box dissipated. The room had momentary become pitch black until his colleague lighted the lamp.

“Your note show that we can go further and I agree. I also get the similar result, Martin,” Hermione stated. Just to be sure, she took a brief check on her calculation. “What if we use the same principle as Priori Incantatem?”

Martin didn’t immediately reply. He tapped his finger on the table, thinking. “On paper it’s possible, though I have no idea how to do it,” he admitted.

“Or we can just focus on a specific spell,” Nigel interjected. With their attention on him, he elaborated, “Hermione, your objective for general identification is good but not feasible with our current resources, plus we also have time constraint too. It won’t be long before Osbert or Shacklebolt asking for result. I say we aim for small goal with concrete result so we can give something substantial in our report. Come on, there’s only a number of spell that was used in crime scene, let’s start it from there.”

At this point, they had succeeded in visualising the magical residue into stable visible projection of pattern which they had used to show that the magic activity in Clun was similar to the Muggle-born boy, officially closing the case. Both Kingsley and Osbert had acknowledged that this method had potential for DMLE in the future so they gave them a go to continuing their research. But since it no longer had correlation to the Beast Division, they couldn’t spare their limited manpower to make contribution in said project which only left the three of them in the capacity as side job for they were still expected to do their main work.

Matching two subjects that essentially same was easy, but that was not the case for fresh (fake) unknown sample. Typically, Hermione strived high. Her initial idea was about magical signature, so that’s what she sought. She hypothesised that the problem with how different spell would gave different visual, obstructing the pattern, surely could be eliminate to get clean and neat primary signature. Except, it was easier said than done.

“You’re right.” She really had long way to go to get used in saying that, but they were on dead end so she said, “What you suggest?”

“Let’s start simple with _Alohomora_. Most crime often start with break in, it was simple enough spell that underage can perform. If it works, determining the caster will help in sorting out the suspect.”

“Or we can ask them to perform the spell and compare the two. We do what we’re doing now to so we can avoid doing it, in case it involves dangerous spell or even Unforgivable.” She glanced at Martin, hoping he’d be in agreement with her.

He did the contrary. “He had a point, Hermione. Universal charm to dissolve all spell interference is great, but we not even accomplish anything albeit knowing exactly what the spell we’re working on. Let’s start with a specific spell in mind as a basis to figure out the principle and we’ll go from there. Maybe if we can come off with something good then we can even get clearance to work with Unforgivable.”

Hermione still wanted to protest, after all if it’s possible to achieve more why they satisfied with just enough. But after seven months with no significant progress, maybe it’s time for her to learn to compromise.

Nigel nudged her, distracting her from her thought. “If this makes you happy, there’s a fiasco involving rubbish bins last night in Gloucester. A boy was knocked unconscious, but his wand showed it was him who cast it. He insisted he didn’t do it, but he’s drunk so his statement was deemed unreliable. Thanks to this idea of yours, he was cleared of suspect.”

Too happy to hear that their hard work had been put to use, she didn’t notice that Martin’s expression turned into alert for a second before returning to his neutral face.

“Alright, we’ll start with mapping the Unlocking Spell and how to untangle it,” she declared enthusiastically.

“Back to the library then,” Martin stated, his hands were moving to collect stack of notes and diagrams from their working station. “Sorry, but I’ll be indisposed for at least next two weeks.”

They knew what this meant; another break. The Grey Room where they’re working belong to Auror Office and between the three of them, only Martin had the pass.

It actually was Containment Chamber, but got the namesake from how the whole room was painted in grey colour. The Auror usually used it when they handled dangerous object, so the room was well equipped with all essential enchantment and protection in place. Robards might give them permission to use it, but that’s the only exception he gave them because they’re only allowed to be there if Martin was with them.

Hermione simply nodded. “We’ll exchange note like usual then. Next week will be busy for me as well.”

“A new Bill for House-Elf?” Nigel said, taking a side step to give way for Hermione to follow Martin. Not only had they needed him to enter the room, but also to leave because a pass was always necessary to open the door, either from inside or from outside.

“No. Just an appointment for _a little nice chat_ with Fieldwake,” she replied, disdain was very visible in her tone.

She stopped on her track toward the door because Martin did, but as her view was blocked by his body she couldn’t see why until she heard a familiar drawl from the other side of the door.

“Arrington, good you’re here already! I have something I want you to check.”

“It’s lunch break, Malfoy.”

“Five minutes. Or you go there and get it yourself. Your pick.”

“Sorry Martin, but it’s urgent,” a friendlier voice interposed. Martin moved aside, revealing the group on each side. “Oh hey Hermione, Nigel,” Harry greeted them. “You’re still working on your project? Sorry, we need Martin for a bit.”

She exited the room, followed by Nigel as Malfoy walked past them wordlessly.

“It’s okay Harry, we’re done for today.”

“Good. Let grab some lunch after this then, I’ll be quick.” He nodded as Nigel bid them goodbye.

“Sure, I’ll wait in your desk.”

Just before Harry closed the door, she caught a glimpse of Malfoy conversing with Martin. It felt strange, she contemplated while walking to Harry’s cubicle. Two years working in the same building, but she could count the time she saw him outside the Balcony with one hand and this was the first time she witnessed him interacting with someone other than her. Even back then in their last year at Hogwarts he was a loner, his interaction with other people was very few in between.

In a way, with how their meeting was always only between the two of them in an isolated place, never been disturbed by anyone else, maybe unconsciously she started to think of him like her imaginary friend – someone only she could see. It wasn’t new for her since she had one in her childhood, she didn’t have friend at nursery so she _created_ one.

Of course she _knew_ that Malfoy was real, he worked with her best friend and his name was mentioned several times in their conversation. But in the back of her mind, she always associate _that_ _Malfoy_ with the Malfoy they knew from school, the boy before the war and not _the Malfoy _she’d sat together in the secluded corner in Hogwarts library or the one she met at the Balcony. Somehow, she always thought that they were different people.

However, seeing the _latter Malfoy_ talking with someone other than her and standing next to her best friend, she was forced to acknowledge that the two Malfoys were same. That her Balcony Malfoy was a real person. For some reason, that fact was rather disconcerting.

True to his word, Harry returned about ten minutes later with Malfoy in tow. When Malfoy passed her, he gave her a slight curt nod which she’d miss if she didn’t pay attention, but she did and it only made her more perplexed.

Luckily, Harry was busy with his satchel so he didn’t spot it. He’d finally mastered the Extendable Charm, but still had problem with organising so he still had little difficulty in finding thing.

“Just summon it, Harry,” she exclaimed, started to feel itchy to take over.

“No. It will negate the purpose of my arrangement,” he stubbornly refused, but the next second his face suddenly lit up and he hastily made some movements with his wand. “Okay, done. I’ll tidy it up later. Let’s go.”

Hermione rose up from the chair, watching him curiously. “Want to tell me what that was?”

“No,” he said cheekily. “As I said, I’ll work on this alone, I don’t need your help.”

“I can give you some pointer.”

“No-no-no, I get this,” he insisted firmly. “You just want to show off. “

She shook her head in amusement, even though there was a slight pang of ache in her chest. This was natural, they were growing up and their life would walk on different path, but she couldn’t help to feel sad that she was less needed by her friend.

Their first stop was the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick up Ron. Harry had noted once that after Ron quitted, they’d met more often in the last six months than the past two years they worked together. Since now Ron had flexible schedule, it’s easy for him to drop by in Diagon Alley when he’s not in assignment for their meal together.

On the other hand, that was not the case for Hermione. With her standard working hour if she wanted she could meet Ron everyday, but she didn’t. It was either she’s too engrossed in her book when she was researching in the library or she thought that by eating sandwich in her office, she could get extra time to finish her work than to spend it to travel to Diagon Alley. Hence, she’d always become the third wheel every time Harry could find her during lunch break and dragged her with him.

Predictably the shop was packed with customers, though not as crowed as it was during weekend. With the summer holiday had started, the majority were youngsters and most adults were their chaperone. Lee was attending the counter, so Ron must be restocking. Not in the mood to be in crowed, Hermione opted to wait outside while Harry’s going in to find Ron.

Shortly, Harry appeared with Ron and after Ron talked with the brown haired girl who’s working with Lee behind the counter, the three of them headed off to their regular sandwich shop.

Once they settled on their table, the conversation flowed easily. Even when Hermione couldn’t follow because it steered into Quidditch, Ron would throw some anecdotes frequently to make her laugh so she wouldn’t be left only as listener. It was almost like their old days in Hogwarts.

His decision to left his Auror job proved to be the right choice in the end, Ron had become more relax and looked happier. As he settled more at the joke shop, his ease personality returned. And even though she’d tried not to show it, everyone knew that Mrs Weasley was very happy with the decision, one less son for her to worry about.

“You sure you will only eat that, Hermione? I can order for you if you want,” said Ron, referring to her noodle soup.

“This is fine. The sandwich is too big, I don’t think I can finish it.” Hermione refused. “By the way, did George finally manage to find help? The girl who’s working with Lee on the counter,” she added at his puzzled look.

“It’s Amy, Amicia Perks. She just graduated from Hogwarts this summer.”

At the name, Harry remarked, “Perks? Where did I hear that name?”

“Sally-Anne Perks? Hufflepuff?” Hermione suggested.

“Yes, she’s her cousin,” Ron confirmed. “Hannah mentioned about her. She said she want to apply in Ministry’s International Trading but there’s no opening this year so I offered if she want to work at the joke shop. With the upcoming World Cup Lee won’t be able to come to the shop anymore, he only stay to train Amy.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, but Harry mischievously teased, “Speaking of girls, it seems leaving your post at the counter doesn’t stop them from frolicking around you. You know Hermione, when I found him at the shop, he’s been cornered by a girl and she looked very persistent.”

“Nothing happened!” Ron cut in hastily, stealing a wary glance at Hermione. “She’s customer so I couldn’t just tell her to fuck off, right. How’s your babysitting Malfoy anyway?” he tried to deflect.

The grin on Harry’s face vanished in an instant. “Now that his probation is over, the Insufferable Prat Prince has made his return.”

It was Ron’s turn to laugh. “Must be fun then,” he snickered. “Please tell me at least you hexed him.”

“I wish,” he grumbled. “Sadly, being a conceited git isn’t good enough justification to hex him. I’m the one who’ll get warning letter if I do that. Plus he’s free to use his magic now so it won’t end prettily for both of us.”

Still half laughing, Ron offered him couple of idea to ‘reign’ Malfoy, after all Harry would be a full fledge Auror in few weeks so he’d have more authority over him. But Hermione’s interest was on different matter.

“How they know that he never break his probation?” she voiced her inquisitiveness. “I know for a fact that to date it’s not possible to seal someone’s magic. And my team is still working on magical signature so he might use other wand if his primary wand was the only one that continuously been monitored.”

For what most probably different reason than her, Ron also started to take interest in this. He stared at Harry attentively, anticipating his answer.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, hesitantly spoke, “This will stay between the three of us, okay. I’m not supposed to tell this to civilian.”

“I was Auror Harry, I know the code. And Hermione has access to almost every document in the Ministry, it’s only a matter of time before she find it herself,” Ron asserted. The smirk that bloomed on Hermione’s face only emphasised it.

“Fine,” Harry gave in. As additional precaution he cast several layers of different Charm around them, they were in public space after all.

“They gave him something like wristband, it interfered his magic. Simple spells were fine, but for more complex one the enchantment would hinder him from gathering enough magic to perform it, like Apparating for example. I don’t know the detail on the how, it’s classified, but I know that now it was put on every prisoner in Azkaban. With Dementor’s gone, we don’t want to take a chance.”

“Can he take it off?” Ron asked.

“Only the caster can do it, with the same wand. So if the caster die or the wand is broken, then he’s done for. Luckily not many know how to do it. Can you imagine if you unknowingly put bracelet on your hand with that enchantment as prank or to blackmail you, then the sender die and you’re doomed for life.”

He shuddered at the thought, unaware of a glint that flickered in Hermione’s eyes.

***

One thing – and the only thing – that Hermione always felt grateful every time she’d be in her office was at least her taste was better than Umbridge. Fieldwake was dull. She couldn’t imagine how she could endure her if her office was full of frilly pink.

Fieldwake took off her glasses and let it dangling by its chain on her neck, a slight frown decorating her expression. Holding her breath, Hermione braced herself for the last blow to shut her down.

“What is in here, Miss Granger?”

That was very unexpected. Suddenly Hermione feared that she’d seen through her scheme. “Pardon?” she uttered, partly to buy some time to formulate correct response.

“Since you join the Ministry you never fail to annoy me with your nonsensical attempt to liberate House-Elf, Miss Granger. Colour me surprise when you suddenly change your course to other direction. So what is in here, Miss Granger?” she repeated her question.

Her sharp tone left no room for a doubt that her answer would be the last statement before she threw her out of the door. When he saw that her proposal was for the Guidelines, Hickman just signed it and brushed her off from his office. But that wouldn’t be the case for Fieldwake.

Hermione quickly schooled her expression, willing not to show relief on her face, it would only brought wrong result. Bringing Sirius and Dobby wouldn’t work to contest Fieldwake, she should use other approach.

“Boldburry case happened because dispute over the estate, it was problem between wizards but a House-Elf was dragged into it. If the Elf was tied to the house, it wouldn’t happen.”

Fieldwake scoffed, she shook her head mockingly. “I see, you’re still trying to protect them. By having this in the Guidelines if similar thing happens in the future, you can defend them by putting the blame on the Master since they have a way to prevent it from happening. Am I right, Miss Granger?”

Hermione pretended to be surprise at her assertion, then lifted her chin in defiance and put a challenging stare.

“Why don’t we put it in a law and make it mandatory,” Fieldwake taunted her.

“No!” Hermione hoped her timing was right and she wasn’t exaggerating too much in her act. “Some people really don’t want to have house-Elf in their house. They should have options if they want to make them leave.”

“It’s permanent?”

“No, the bond can be cancelled.” Hermione made sure that she sounded dejected. “But it’s complicated, there’s a file from 1753 mentioning about the official performing the severing procession. But it will only backfire for us if we enforce it then someone changes their mind.”

Fieldwake eyed her suspiciously, making her feel unease whether this would work on her favour or she was jeopardising herself with her act. She wasn’t used of this type of _diplomacy_, too much plotting, masked words and mind game for her taste.

“Well, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Granger,” Fieldwake sniffed. Hermione let go the breath she’d been holding. So far so good, she had a good feeling on this.

Until Fieldwake exterminated it with her finishing punch. “It’s good to know that finally your salary is well earned.”

It took a lot of effort to restrain herself from wielding her wand and hexing the old hag to the next century. People with eyes could clearly see how she worked her damnest, more than anybody else in the whole building. Rita Skeeter and her rag articles was one thing but no Ministry employee – nobody – would dare to toss that accusation to her face.

She couldn’t fathom why on earth Shacklebolt would let someone with this personality worked for him. And she never knew what problem this woman had with her. Judging from what her co-worker told her, she wondered whether it was because her view about House-Elf, her blood status, or she just disliked her personally.

She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath, reminding herself of the big picture; House-Elf well being, that’s the most important thing for now. Still, she only gave a cursory nod when she left, jaw tightened. She wasn’t convinced that she wouldn’t curse her if she opened her mouth.

But overall her win was bigger than her loss so she wasn’t stewing that much on her way back to her desk. And by the time she went home – uncommonly she decided to leave early, earning a strange look from her colleague – she was almost chipper, she would be whistling along the way if she could.

Her wide grin quickly dissolved when she entered her flat once she saw her flatmate on the sofa though. There she was; knees folded to her chest, one hand hugging her knees while the other busy shoving big scoop of ice cream into her mouth, eyes fixed unseeing to whatever programme on the muted telly. A clear indication that something had happened.

Without a word, Hermione went to her room to change her clothes into pyjamas and sat next to her, armed with her own spoon. Ginny still didn’t react or even acknowledged her when she dipped her spoon into the ice cream carton, but Hermione kept quiet and waited.

“Reggie offered me to be Seeker.”

Ginny finally spoke when Hermione was reaching for her fifth scoop, making her pause for seconds, then calmly dug the vanilla side of cream. That’s their unwritten rule, the one with problem would get the chocolate.

Even though she’s her flatmate, Hermione seldom attended her match. But Ginny understood how she still wasn’t comfortable with crowd nowadays and that she wasn’t really into Quidditch as well, cheering on your House team four times a year was completely different than watching professional Quidditch match two times a month. It made her feel guilty, but Ginny always assured her that it was better for her to rest at home after she beat herself half to death by working overtime through the week than watching her sat on the reverse bench for most of the game.

Of course Ginny had played several times, naturally players would be rotated when the game went too long, but Harry had told her that on the last two matches Ginny had to play Seeker when both players were unable and she’d played brilliantly.

“It turns out Abby is pregnant and more than holding a try out to get new Seeker, Reggie wanted me to fill in,” she explained, dropping her spoon into the container. The chocolate flavoured ice was almost finished, Hermione wondered should she took another from the fridge. She noticed how she used past tense, but she didn’t comment.

Ginny flopped onto sofa, staring at the ceiling for a moment before saying, “I turned it down.”

Silence descended once more in the room.

“Because you want to be a Chaser,” Hermione noted since Ginny didn’t utter another word for some time.

She twisted her neck, bringing her eyes to the brunette. “Do you think I made mistake? Two years and when I finally got a chance to be a starter, I turned it down,” she lamented.

Hermione sniggered. “You’re Ginevra Weasley, you will always do what you want to do. Nobody can force you to do anything you don’t want,” she stated.

She abandoned her spoon and followed Ginny lead, resting her back on sofa. “Harry once told me that Chaser suits you the best,” she started. “You’re fierce and always love a challenge. Catching Snitch is just like a blip, while scoring goal is something that you can do over and over again.

“I think I can quite grasp it. Catching Snitch is like one time achievement after a long wait, either you seize it first or your opponent beat you and that’s it. But for Chaser, even if your opponent scores first you can always retaliate. Passing Quaffle to your teammate or snatch it from your rival team, you do it restlessly throughout the game so each goal will feel different. It surely gives more satisfaction.”

“For someone who claim to not like Quidditch, you understand it pretty well,” Ginny teased, bumping her arm when saying it.

Hermione rubbed her arm in mock hurt. “Unfortunately, I happened to be surrounded by Quidditch junkies so more or less I learnt something,” she gruffed. “I’m not undermining Seeker but though it requires flying skill, I think it mostly drop on luck and honestly it doesn’t settle well on me. Remember when Harry beat me in Potion on sixth year? I studied every Potion books every night and he beat me just because he happened to find a personally annotated book. It’s just unfair!”

“I know, right,” Ginny shared her sentiment, laughing. “They just wait on the sideline then the Snitch just coincidentally is closer to other Seeker or he happens to see it first or he has faster broom than you and bam, you lose. And they’re the one who get more recognition, how unfair is that. Oh, but don’t let Harry hear this, he won’t like it.”

Hermione chuckled. “He will vehemently defend it, lecturing us with all the difficulty of being Seeker.”

Gradually, Ginny ‘s laugh subsided. “He’s really a true Seeker, isn’t he? He’ll wait on the sideline until he sees an opportunity,” she remarked soberly, smiling softly to herself. “He respects me when I said I want space and that’s what he’ll do. He’ll attend all my matches, meet me after the match and cheer me even when I’m not playing, take me to friendly lunch here and there, and that’s it, nothing more. Well, I guess I’ll have to be the one who make the first move.”

“You’re sure?”

Ginny nodded. “It may not be traditional but as you said, I’m a Chaser, I chase for the opening not wait for it to come. Besides, how can I date other man when he’s always around me,” she playfully whined. “And worse, I still love that moron, even with his stupid hero complex and martyr tendency.”

Hermione crossed the space between them and placed an arm around her shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, Gin,” she said sincerely. “I’ll always wish for the best for you, both of you, whatever it is.”

“Thank you. And this time, I won’t mind for a bit of luck too,” Ginny jested.

The two young women shared a look and as if on cue, giggled together.

Silently Hermione pondered, if only it was that clear and easy for her and Ron.


	13. Link

Draco tightened his jaw so hard that he might crack his teeth, but right now he didn’t care if it indeed happened. He didn’t even try to school his expression, all his energy was directed to squelch his urge to lash out especially since it was only increasing overtime, encouraged by the loud pounding sound in his ears. Luckily his logical brain still won, he knew that it wouldn’t do him any good to create commotion inside Minister Office. Therefore he upheld his stony demeanour, repressing the flecks of rage that threatening to burst his veins and the itch to slam someone’s face.

The atmosphere in the room was stale, nobody uttered any sound to break the stillness. Particularly for the two men facing him, he could tell they wait for his reaction which he wouldn’t give, if only just to spite them. He would hold his ground, he wouldn’t be the one who’d spit the first word. His endurance paid off, the tide shifted in his favour when not a minute later his partner inadvertently aided him.

“Who’s escaped?” The bespectacled Boy Wonder spoke, taking away the spotlight from him.

The Head Auror answered, “Yaxley, Runcorn and Crabbe.”

“So why we’re still here? We should gather everyone and capture them before they’ll go too far and it’s not possible to track them.”

“Don’t you think I haven’t done it, Potter?” His boss castigated him. Potter clamped his mouth apologetically. “There’s no Trace to be tracked. Either they managed to remove it or somehow they’re able to obscure it.”

“But that means ...,” Potter trailed off as realisation dawned on him.

Robards finished it for him. “Knowing about Lucius Malfoy’s release is one thing, but to know about the Suppressing Bands means their access to the Ministry is deep. We don’t have enough information right now to make a chase, so the first priority is to find the mole.”

“Someone can be using Polyjuice, Imperius is a possibility too,” the young Auror supplied. “It won’t be the first time someone use that method to infiltrate this place.”

Draco glanced to the man sitting beside him. He had heard rumour about how Potter had successfully broken into the Ministry of Magic undetected, even during Riddle’s reign. There was also rumour that he had robbed Gringotts with Granger impersonating his deranged aunt. Of course none was confirmed and many believed that it was only the paper’s ruse, exaggerating his so called adventure to sell their copies. How embarrassing it was to admit that the two most vital institutions in Wizarding Britain could be broken by mere teenagers.

While the Ministry never voiced any statement, Gringotts had vehemently denied the allegation. They claimed that the incident that was referred in paper was caused by a newly acquired dragon wreaking havoc in one of their vault which led them to evaluate the use of dragon as a guard. It was soon followed by dragon removal from the bank within a year later and the public’s doubt had completely ceased, Gringotts retained his reputation as impenetrable fortress.

Although judging by the exchange look between Potter and the Minister, there might be some truth in those rumours. He didn’t have to wait for Shacklebolt to confirm it.

“I know. We can’t really depend on wand identification all the time, but that’s what we have now,” he acknowledged sombrely. “This breakout cannot leak to the press, public can’t know. There’s World Cup coming next year, no need to attract unnecessary distress,” he emphasised.

Typical government secrecy, Draco thought, expecting the conversation to end so he could deal with his problem at hand. However, apparently Potter still had some say.

“What about using something like the Thief’s Downfall they have in Gringotts? It washes away any concealment; Imperius and Polyjuice included,” he blurted. At Robards’ cynical look, he added hurriedly, “I know it’s too obvious to have waterfall in the Atrium, but there’s existing fountain there. It won’t be so strange if there’s mist around it, right?”

Shacklebolt was faster to catch on Potter’s plot than the old Auror.

“Can you handle it, Harry? I prefer to have less people as possible knowing about this, especially if we really have mole in the ministry.”

“Maybe Hermione and Bill, if that’s okay?” Potter bargained.

Very predictable of Potter. He might able to concoct a rather impressive idea but he would always run to Granger for help in the end.

Listening as bystander had reduced his anger, but he jumped too fast to assume that they would left him alone from their discussion. He’s only starting to unfold his clench fist when the Minister of Magic addressed him.

“How about Mr Nott? You sure it’s not him?”

“No, he won’t. I made sure he can’t betray me,” Draco answered, applying blasé attitude.

“How?” Robards demanded.

“I have my way, you just have to take my word,” he bristled icily. His control slipped rapidly once he started talking.

“It’s not time to play, Malfoy. I will decide is it okay or not, I don’t need another surprise.” His superior pressed on.

And eventually Draco snapped. “So do I. You didn’t disclose everything to me, so I merely return your gesture. It goes both way, sir,” he hissed stiffly. “Oh let me tell you, I don’t appreciate your planned surprise.”

“That information is above your pay grade,” he brushed him off.

But Draco weren’t having it. “I don’t care what deal he had with you, but I have rights to know if I would find my father sitting in drawing room when I got home,” he spat. “Too bad Crabbe had to ruin the surprise by killing him.”

He’s not angry that Crabbe had murdered his father. He’s fully aware that many had targeted his family, one side because of their defection while the other displeased with their light punishment. He’s prepared for any attack, to him and to his parents, he anticipated it. Especially Crabbe, he knew for a fact that the wizard had personal vendetta against him, he held him responsible for his son’s death. But the way they tried to make a fool of him, it didn’t make angry, he’s furious.

Right after he’d arrived in his cubicle this morning, he’d been sent to a meaningless assignment far south in Cornwall only to be call back hours later and then was dragged by Robards to the Minister’s office where he’d been informed the news. There’s breakout in Azkaban this early morning and his father was killed in the commotion.

The secrecy was expected, he figured they didn’t trust him to be involved in the investigation despite his position as Auror. Or maybe they thought that he would run after them to avenge his father, hell they might even suspect that he had a hand in this prison break.

No, what had aggravated him was how they finally revealed that his father was supposed to be released today to finish the rest of his sentence in house arrest. That’s how the three prisoners had escaped, they hijacked the boat which supposed to transport his father.

Did they seriously think he’d welcome his father easily as if nothing happen? Or they’d amused themselves in anticipating his reaction, betting which colour his face would turn into?

Unlike with his mother, his relationship with father was always complicated, even before he dragged him into self destruction. So there’s no way he could face him with straight countenance and it’s not something that he wanted to show to strangers.

Realising that letting Robards continued the conversation would bring them nowhere, Shacklebolt intervened.

“Only select few know about the arrangement, Draco. The plan was to bring Lucius here where you’d meet him before we escort him to Malfoy manor,” he said plainly. Not patronising nor placating, only stating a fact, even if he called him with his given name. “He’s big target so the wards would also be strengthened, it’s for his safety and yours too. And later on, even public won’t know that he’s under house arrest.”

Draco sneered, dripping with cold derision. “I can protect myself, thank you. And why do you think I want to continue this charade, sir? I’ve paid my due. With the way you keep blindsided me, I don’t think I’ll be safer on your side.”

“And what will you do if I may ask? Running? Hiding? With the Galleon you have now, it certainly possible for you to buy your way, right,” he calmly derided him. Not affected by the hostile glare thrown at him, he continued, “I won’t offer you protection, Draco. I offer you a chance to be a man and do the right thing.”

Draco didn’t plan for both, but nobody needed to know that, more so Shacklebolt. He wouldn’t let him manipulate him by retaliating either, so he just bit his tongue and held his stance in defiance for now, willing this meeting to be over soon. Then again, Potter had to flaunt his nasty habit to snoop his nose to other people’s business.

“You must move Mrs Malfoy, Kingsley. She’s also in danger and her location is too well known.”

There, bleeding heart Saint Potter had to bring up his mother in this precarious situation.

Shacklebolt clearly pleased with how this meeting went. “How is it, Draco? What if you make the arrangement yourself? It will be only Harry who supervises you. It’s okay right, Robards?”

Robards eyed him questioningly, frown visible on his forehead. However, he didn’t voice any objection.

“As long as she doesn’t return to Britain,” he shrugged. “That will be your assignment for the next two weeks then. But Potter, make sure you get Arrington and send the preliminary report on Gloucester to my desk before you go.”

Afterward, the Head Auror took out a roll of parchment and handed it to Shacklebolt. Without the need to spell it out, the two young Aurors knew that they were being dismissed so they stood up and bid their leave.

Just when Draco turned his back, Shacklebolt beckoned him.

“Mr Malfoy, it might be wise if you weren’t seen entering my office too often. We don’t want to raise unnecessary attention on you.”

His tone was still as flat and as calm as before. Even without turning around, Draco could guess from the sound of flipped paper, he seemed to not even shift his gaze from whatever he’s been reading. And Draco understood what it implied, an order which didn’t need an affirmation, so he didn’t give any and moved on.

Good for him, he didn’t need to attend this dreadful meeting anymore. And since he said not to attract suspicion, he presumed it including avoiding Robards as well. It’s not something that he’d complain, even though in exchange he’d get annoying Potter as his ‘caretaker’.

“Malfoy.”

Speak of the devil, not even one minute passed and he’s already on his noisy mode. He stopped his step and spun to face him, sending him an irritated glare.

He hesitated for a moment, nervously adjusting his glasses. “Erm ... I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No, you’re not,” Draco snarled. More than his unending intrusion, he despised the pity directed at him like he’s doing now.

“He is still your fath–.”

“He _was_,” he cut him scathingly. Good, it made Potter squirmed.

“Listen, I’ll finish the paperwork. You can leave early if you want,” Potter said gingerly.

And right at that time, one lift opened, it’s empty. But instead of following his partner into the lift, Draco changed direction, heading to the stair. He knew Potter would leave him alone, at least until tomorrow morning. He wouldn’t be back to his cubicle today and the last place he wanted to be right now was the manor.

The Minister of Magic wanted him to do the right thing, then that’s what he’d do, _his_ right thing. His father’s now gone, never again he’d let anyone to control what he should or should not do.

***

_Whilst majority of witches and wizards flee to Britain, they chose to remain in the continent, retreating to the deep of Bavaria. An old account reminisced that most had escaped from Valais, history noted that’s one of the place where the persecution of werewolves emerged during the peak of Witch Hunt period. From then they’d formed a community of their own, completely separated themselves from wizarding community._

_Yes, how surprising that centuries ago werewolves used to live in harmony side by side with witches and wizards, just like our past history with Muggle. Among all the things that were lost in our history, it’s the awareness that long time ago lycanthropy was not seen as a Curse but a Gift. I was very fortunate that the Elder was willing to share the glimpse of his knowledge._

_Contrary to popular belief, originally magical folk didn’t turn into a were due to malicious Curse or because a wizard had accidentally been bitten by a wolf during full moon (a common knowledge, Muggle can’t turn into werewolf). It is through hard work. To become a true Wolf, you need to go through a long and tedious process, from meditation to a certain ritual. It can be said that transforming into your Wolf was a form of Advance Animagi where you don’t control your transformation, but surrender it to the Magic of the Moon._

_Sadly I didn’t pass their preliminary assessment, I wasn’t deemed suitable to host and to care Wolf’s soul so he couldn’t tell me more. The Art of Wolf is a secret that is shared among their kinds. It’s understood that if it’s done incorrectly, you won’t be able to maintain the balance of the two souls, the Wolf may overtake your soul and goes rogue. That’s one of the cause how werewolf had become a plague as we know today._

_A new Initiate was willing to recount his experience while in his Wolf form. He said and I paraphrase it, “I felt free. It’s liberating but simultaneously it’s also overwhelming! I was very sensitive to everything around me, it’s like I was engulfed by Mother Nature. It’s crushing but humbling at the same time, to realise that I’m just a tiny part of the universe. It’s a very exhilarating experience and I can’t wait for the next full moon.”_

Hermione’s eyes scanned the rest of the article. It continued with argument on why Ministry should never interfere with werewolf and left them alone instead of bringing them to join wizarding community, basically it was an anti-werewolf propaganda in round-about way. However, that citation had picked her interest. It was noted to be quoted from a book titled _Revisiting Magical Lore_ by Eustace Hordwill. She never heard both, but she sided aside the copy of an old edition Daily Prophet to write down the book title on her notebook. She would search it later in library.

When she turned to deposit the pile of old papers into her tote bag, she didn’t find it. Instead she found a woven string bracelet lying next to her books. She must have been here for quite some time since the charm already wore off. She took the bracelet into her palm, smiling as she remembered how she got it. It was from Ron.

Few days ago, she’d been at Diagon Alley for an errand. It’s already close to lunch when she’d done so she’d thought of inviting Ron for lunch. She’d realised even after they’ve made up, unlike her other two friends, she’d never be the one to reach first toward Ron. The way his face had lit up seeing her entering the shop had only made her feel guiltier for not doing it sooner.

That’d been the first time they’ve gone out together after their fight, just the two of them without Harry or Ginny as chaperons. And it’d gone well.

They’d chatted; Ron’d happily talked about the joke shop and she’d told him about her latest house visit. She’d laughed when Ron narrated some funny incident with a customer in the morning and he’d soothed her when she’d started to be aggravated as she recounted an argument she had with one of House-Elf owner. It felt easy, just like when they were teenager.

By the end of their lunch, nervously Ron had pushed a nicely wrapped rectangular box toward her. A string bracelet was inside, made by a red and a golden coloured string interwoven together with something like Runes inscription visible in its centre. As she’d carefully examined it, Ron had sheepishly explained that it was supposed to be her birthday gift but with what had happened, he’d thought of giving it to her for her next birthday but then it would’ve meant he didn’t give her birthday present for three years straight so here was it.

He had made and charmed it himself, it’d been his first craft from his Auror day and the only thing he’d successfully learnt from Jonas, he claimed. It’d been made from special strings Auror normally used and charmed so it would’ve been easy to be transfigured into anything based on string and stayed that way for twice longer than it normally did. Permanent Transfiguration was impossible, usually how long it held would depend on how strong the caster was and she’d never heard anything about amplifying it.

It was very thoughtful of him, not only that it was a proof of his hard work as an Auror but also he’d recognised that she wasn’t into jewellery and had given her something more practical instead. In fact until today, she’d never wore it as bracelet, it was mostly used as a key holder or she’d transfigured it into a knitted tote bag to carry book or parchment, especially if it belonged to Ministry library because it was specifically charmed to clash with any Extendable Charm to prevent smuggling.

Yes, when he really put his heart on something, Ron could be very charming. It was one of his attribute that made her attracted to him. And she still did. She’s aware that he still had feeling for her, it’s hard to not notice it and he never tried to hide it either, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it and played ignorant. However, if she’s being honest, that flutter in her chest was still there.

Now that Harry and Ginny had dated again, she often felt a pang of envy seeing how happy they were. She wanted it too, she really did. Yet something had been holding her back, something she couldn’t identify. It left her wondered how relationship could look so simple and easy when she was 17; you fancied someone and when he fancied you back, then they’re dating. Now it all seemed to be very complicated and confusing.

Was it because everything had crumbled for her own mistake and unconsciously she’s punishing herself for that mistake? If only she’d never insisted of going to Australia, maybe she would be in happy relationship with Ron right now. They might even been planning their wedding by this point. She’d never seen herself as someone who’d marry young, only would do it after she’d settled in her career, but maybe she would love Ron that much to reconsider it.

Then again, she’s a Gryffindor right? Harry and Ginny also had their problem, yet it didn’t prevent them from taking a chance for happiness with each other. They chose to fight for their relationship, braced any hardship that might come in their way. In that case, maybe it was also the time for her to embrace her Gryffindor spirit and stopped over thinking. Happiness couldn’t be achieved without a fight and to be able to feel it she had to open her heart. Ron had done his part, it’s her turn to meet him in the middle.

Hermione leaned her back on the bench, letting out a long breath, eyes looked up to the sky. Two years working in this institution, she found out that there’s nothing better than spending time reading at the Balcony in summer. The late sunset was a bonus for she’d get more time in daylight. Sure she loved to be in the library, but she wouldn’t deny that being in a closed space for long period could be suffocating, the best place to read was always outdoor. Back at Hogwarts, her favourite had been under an oak tree by the Black Lake and now she had the Balcony.

Her mussing was abruptly interrupted when the door was harshly opened, followed by Malfoy’s appearance. She didn’t have a chance to react because what happened next occured in a rapid succession. Not a second after he stepped from the door, Malfoy slammed it in a loud bang and with no halt in between, he threw his fist to its surface.

“FUCK!” And another punch, not as strong as the first but still made Hermione flinched.

No one made any movement. Utterly stunned, Hermione only watched as Malfoy spun around and slowly slumped down to the floor, sitting dejectedly with head between his knees.

Did someone in Auror Office give him a hard time, she wondered in her thought. Aside from their single run-in in Grey Room, she’d never seen him interact with anyone in the Ministry and outside this place she’d hardly seen him anywhere so she didn’t really know how he’d actually been treated here, but she wouldn’t be surprised if more than one person acting unpleasant toward him.

His shoulder shook slightly as a silent hollow laugh was heard from his direction. At the moment, Hermione felt that it was not something she’s allowed to witness, moreover she’s really sure that she was not supposed to be here at all and saw his breakdown. 

Just when she started to think of a way to leave without he noticed, she caught a glance at his bloodied knuckle and without a thought she blurted, “Oh my god! What wrong with you boys and brute force!”

She slid down joining him on the floor and without asking, she snatched his injured hand and fixed the fracture with a tap of her wand. She kept muttering about how boys needed to find less barbaric outlet for their anger while applying Dittany from her bag to his knuckle.

Her whole action was automatic after spending too much time with two reckless hot blooded boys so when she lifted up her gaze and found a pair of grey eyes, her smile gradually dissipated.

Malfoy stared at her with wide eyes and mouth half open, bewildered. There’s a strong urge to smack her head to nearest wall but with Malfoy seemed to be still processing her presence and sudden antic, she might have some leverage to salvage her dignity.

Hermione released his hand from her hold and haughtily said, “There, it’s fixed.” With as much calmness she could muster, she stood up and walked to the bench. Once she sat, she reached the top most book beside her without looking at the title and started to leaf through its pages.

“I don’t need a company right now, Granger. You better leave,” Malfoy said in restrained tone, free from his stupor.

He didn’t barked it as an order, no demeaning nor insulting tone, but Hermione was too jittery so her replied was harsher than what she intended.

“How many time I have to tell you that this is a public, not yours. And anyway, you’re blocking my only way out. Do you want me to jump from here? No, thank you, Malfoy.”

Realising too late how it sounded, she almost uttered an apology when she saw that her bag was lying few feet from where Malfoy sat. For a second, she really considered to jump from this building. Yes, she’d done a series of imperious stupid behaviour but this was Malfoy and if she owned it up – not that her pride would let her did it anyway – it’s guaranteed that he’d exploit it against her for the rest of her life. So she acted her best to pretend reading while racking her brain on how to take her bag unnoticed.

She could feel Malfoy’s stare at her, but she didn’t dare to steal a side glance checking it. Eventually she concluded that to look convincing that she’s reading, she just had to _truly read_. And that’s what she did. Lucky for her, it’s a book about werewolf so at least she could continue her research on that subject.

It took her less than 10 minutes to be absorbed in her reading and by third chapter the previous debacle was completely wiped out from her mind, so engrossed she was in her book that she became obvious that Malfoy was still there. It was when she reached for her afternoon snack from the box beside her that she accidentally glimpsed on his crestfallen figure.

He was still where he was with his head was back on his knees, but judging from the steady movement of his shoulder it looked like he managed to control his rage. Maybe he’d fallen asleep, she thought, though she didn’t think he’d allow himself to be in a vulnerable state in her vicinity. But she understood how it felt like to be afflicted by her peer with no one to turn to, possibly he’s finally at his breaking point.

How the wheel of life had turned, from a privileged boy prancing like a prince back in Hogwarts to a social pariah he’s now. But was his past behaviour actually his nature or nurture? After knowing him closer this last three years, she often wondered how he might turn up if he wasn’t born as Malfoy. For one thing, he might never been coerced to receive the Mark. She couldn’t help not to sympathise him.

Even in her childhood, she might not have friend but she had her parents and thing was only getting better as later on she found friends in Harry and Ron, but it was the contrary for Malfoy. She gathered that his father was in Azkaban and his mother was exiled abroad, their communication was cut as stipulated in their sentence. And most people still saw him as Death Eater while his old Slytherin pals seemed to avoid him as well. He was truly alone.

Hermione’s eyes bounced between her fish finger sandwiches and the man by the door, considering. Once she came on her resolve, she grabbed the snack box then headed to the former Slytherin, crouched down in front of him.

“Here,” she said as she held out the box. At his puzzle look, she added, “My payback. I remember I took your sandwich once. Call me petty, but I don’t like owing you anything, Malfoy.”

She reckoned he wouldn’t take her offer if she acted nicely, so she did the opposite. And she’s correct. He cautiously took one, not shifting his suspicious stare from her face which she replied with challenging raised eyebrows.

A bite, one chew, and he spat it, coughing furiously.

Hermione burst out a hearty laugh, it was an expected reaction. Non-verbally she Accio’d her water flask from the bench and offered it to him. Surprisingly, after the prank, Malfoy unquestioningly took it from her hand and drank it.

“What the hell is this, Granger? Are you trying to kill me?!” he barked once he controlled his coughing fit.

“Don’t you dare throwing it, Malfoy!” Hermione scolded him when he lifted his hand to dispose the rest of the sandwich. “Did your mother never tell you it’s bad to dump good food?”

“You call this pathetic excuse of rubbish as food?!” he yelled, shooting her a scathing incredulous glare.

“Oh please. It’s just marmite, Malfoy.”

“So you admit you put Mermaid poison here.”

She rolled her eyes, Malfoy really could be very dramatic.

“No, you moron. It’s yeast extract and it’s actually rich of nutrient, it will make you healthy if you don’t know what it means.” She nicked the corner of his sandwich and made a show of chewing and swallowing it. “You see, I’m fine. But since you’re a beginner, my suggestion is take small bite instead of big one and maybe drink in between to offset the taste.”

She took one sandwich for herself, giving him a mocking smirk while she munched it, goading him to finish his share.

“Why does anyone want to eat this horrible _thing_?” he grumbled.

Nonetheless he put a brave face and took a small bite, quickly followed by a gulp of water, but the bite reached his stomach this time. So in appreciation, she restrained her giggle. She scooted to the side of the cupboard and sat there with her back resting on it.

“My father used to make it for me every time I was upset, fish finger sandwich with a thin layer of marmite. He’s marmite guy. But my mum liked marmalade on her toast and she always made sure to make homemade orange marmalade on holiday,” she spoke conversationally.

“No matter how angry you are, hurting yourself won’t bring you any good, you know. Don’t listen on what they say, there’s always someone who don’t like you no matter what you do, so just ignore them.” The last part was said in light offhanded tone as to not incite his anger.

“Was?”

Hermione turned her head to face him, a frown between her eyebrows. From his expression she realised that he’s referring to her earlier sentences.

“No-no-no, they’re alive. They just don’t remember me,” she corrected his assumption. She transferred her gaze to the horizon, looked longingly to the distance. “I had to send them away to protect them during the war,” she began.

“A complicated Memory Modification to make them think they’re different persons with no daughter and some sort of adapted Protean Charm to take care of their identification so anything with Richard Philip Granger would change to Wendel David Wilkin and Elizabeth Jean Granger became Monica Jean Wilkin.” She paused for a moment. “Very smart, right? In fact it was so perfect that there’s no way to reverse it. But they’re alive and happy, that’s the most important for me.”

She could feel his stare on her but she fixed her eyes to where it was, she didn’t really want to know how his reaction would be.

“You don’t change her middle name,” Malfoy noted idly.

He really had interesting knack to pick on unexpected detail. It’s amused her so she followed his lead.

“I shared my last name with my father, so in fairness my mother gave me her middle name. She’s very competitive woman.” She chuckled, realising that she should blame her mother that she inherited this trait. She sighed. “I knew that I had to let them go, that I might never meet them again. I know it’s silly, but in that last second I still want to have a connection with them somehow.”

Silence descended around them. Even the noise from the crowd below was more of a muffled sound. The sky had switched colour to reddish violet with a spade of gold layer on the horizon. Time to go home then, if not she might end up staying here until morning.

“You’re still working on werewolf?”

Hermione grabbed her bag and stood up. “Yes. And?”

He scoffed. “Wow, you’re really serious about doing the impossible, aren’t you?”

“For your information Malfoy, my House-Elf project is huge success,” she retorted, a shade of boasting could be heard in her voice. “Or are you offering your help? Have something to share, Malfoy? Another werewolf bedtime story perhaps?”

“Nice try, Granger. I see you’re finally learning something about manipulation,” he mocked complementing her. “Giving me strange food and then telling story about your parents so I’ll lower my guard. But sorry, I’m not that stupid to fall on your trap. I know it’s time for the Gryffindor Princess to go to bed, but find someone else for your bedtime story, Granger.”

“Well, worth a try,” she quipped. She glanced at his right hand and smirked. “Strange food, huh? But it seems you enjoy your sandwich,” she teased, a cheeky grin decorating the corner of her lip.

He looked down on his hand and saw that the sandwich in his hand was almost gone. Schooling his expression, he countered, “I would rather have marmalade.”

Looking straight to her eyes in defiance, he plopped the last bite into his mouth. His eyes never wavered from hers as he swallowed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marmite and marmalade, what an interesting couple (because butter and jam are too ordinary). I prefer honey on my breakfast though; on my toast, pancake, milk, porridge, almost everything. By the way if you think that Draco finishing his sandwich on his first marmite experience is too far-fetched, Hermione made the sandwich for her afternoon snack so it was cut into small size (as in instead of cutting it diagonally into 2 pieces, it was cut into 4 pieces). And I’ve done the similar trick to my friend where I managed making him to eat an ‘exotic food’ by distracting him with conversation, so it’s possible.


	14. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my take on Romione, in short this chapter will tell about their date so some of you maybe want to skip this chapter. In canon both had been harbouring teenage crush on each other for years, so I don’t think it can simply be dismissed.

Procrastinator was one Hermione Granger would never be called. Once she made up her mind on something she’d do it immediately and it was not only applied in her work but all aspects in her life, including relationship. When she decided to give chance to her relationship with Ron, the first time she met him after her decision was made, she asked him if he wanted to have dinner with her if he’s free on Saturday. As a date, she emphasised so there’d be no misinterpretation of her intention.

She’s glad that she did it, the way his smile spread from ear to ear and spark of light glittered in his eyes was something that she would want to see again. So when he nervously stumbled whether she would mind if he chose the place, she assented without further thought. This was what relationship should be, sharing and compromising. He’d given her space when she needed it, then she’s told him when she’s ready to try, so it’s only fitting if she gave the control to Ron again on how he wanted their first date would be. This was something she’s still learning; relinquishing control.

Which brought her to her current situation.

“Ouch!” she wailed. “Gin, it hurt!”

“Sorry, I forget that your hair is as feisty as you are. They really don’t want to cooperate, I should buy more Sleekeazy! But we don’t have time for it now, you haven’t even put your makeup!”

For the past hours, she’d been sitting in front of Ginny’s vanity mirror while the younger witch was battling her hair into submission. Ginny had shrieked so loud when Hermione told her yesterday that she’d have a date with her brother on weekend. She had later raided her wardrobe and berated her for not informing her sooner after she declared that apparently she didn’t have proper dress, ending up with Ginny barging her door early this morning and dragging her through several Muggle dress shops (Two years watching shows on telly, Ginny considered Muggle had better taste).

“Don’t you think it’s too much, Gin? This is Ron, we might only grab sandwich or maybe fish and chips,” Hermione said, winced when her friend pulled her hair too hard.

Ginny picked a pin from the table and set it on her hair to hold the twist in place. “I know my brother and you can trust me that he’ll try his hardest to impress you tonight so you better be prepared.”

Hermione sighed. “It just doesn’t look like me, dressing up like this,” she muttered. Even last time when she’d attended Ministry Gala, she only dressed modestly. Yes, she’d cleaned up a bit compare to her everyday look, but not as much as the other guests. Dressing up took a lot of effort and she didn’t really have time and was just too tired to spare more energy to do it.

“Oh please, you never heard how he moaned over your appearance on Triwizard Yule Ball.” She put her hands on Hermione shoulders and leaned down so their heads were on the same level, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “For one, seeing you like this will make him happy,” Ginny said. “And he’s my brother so there’s a huge possibility that he’ll muck up somewhere, but at least let’s make sure that it starts in happy note.”

If not for a brief twitch on the corner of her lip, Hermione would fall to her sweet words and let the red haired girl have full reign on her. How everything on the table looked new was a death giveaway. Lately Ginny had developed a new habit to go into shopping frenzy when she’s very upset.

“Why I feel like I’m being a medium for you to vent your frustration?” she griped. “How long it’s been? Two weeks?”

Ginny bolted up and her face changed drastically. “20 days! And no letter! Well, to be fair, he did say that he couldn’t send any, but still ...,” she trailed off, pouting.

Hermione tapped the hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’s fine. We’ll hear from Kingsley if something happen to him,” she assured her.

Few days ago Harry had been sent away for an assignment to an undisclosed place. Although this was not the first time nor strange with his job as Auror, but it’s the longest.

“It’s not that,” she denied. “I’ll turn grey before 30 if I worry every time he’s on assignment. It’s just that he left just before his birthday and now he missed my birthday too! I’m aware it’s for work and I’ll readily admit that I might choose my match over him someday, but this was supposed to be our first celebration as couple.” She huffed. “You don’t need to tell me, I know I’m being a selfish brat here.”

Hermione chuckled at her last statement. She tightened her grip on her hand. “Nothing’s wrong with it, Gin. You’re just acting like a normal girl on a newly relationship.”

Ginny squeezed her shoulder back, smiling. “And you’re heading into one. Now I’m going to get your dress from your room so you can put some makeup on that pretty face of yours. My brother may come at any moment.”

Despite the reason they relocated to Ginny room was because she didn’t have adequate makeup equipments (_“You don’t even own proper size mirror, Hermione!”_), Hermione only applied light makeup on her face. For her everyday appearance she used having no time as an excuse as to not putting makeup, but in truth she didn’t really care about cosmetics. Not that she had many occasions where she had to play dress up.

Makeup done, she went to the bathroom to change. She reckoned that she should be grateful that Ginny hadn’t gone overboard by picking some extravagant gown for her. It was a nice pale pink knee-length sundress, simple enough that she wouldn’t attract too much attention if Ron did take her for sandwich, but still sensible and exuded elegance to wear in some three courses dining establishment. As far as she knew, wizarding community in Britain didn’t have some kind of upper scale restaurant where they had to dress up to the nine (most of ‘rich’ family would preferred to host fancy dinner at their own house). And assuming that Ron would take her to a 3-star Michelin restaurant was too far-fetched if only for how clueless he’d be in arranging reservation or dealing with Muggle currency, so it’s safe to say that her dress would do.

“Oh my, look how fetching this beautiful lady is,” Ginny chirped, following a teasing wolf whistle.

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione chided, affecting a faux offend face. She grabbed her keys from the table, but seeing its string holder, she had better idea.

“You sure you want to wear it?” Ginny queried as Hermione stumbled to tie the two ends on her wrist.

At her friend puzzle look, Ginny elaborated, “Do you know that there old custom among wizard to give little trinket like jewellery to a witch he court to signify his intention? If the witch wears it, it indicates that she accepts his suit.”

Hermione stopped what she’s doing. “You mean like engaged?”

“No, just that you’re in exclusive relationship. To put it simply, staking a claim of the witch – yeah I know, very archaic,” she grimaced. “Then again, it’s not real jewellery so I don’t think it counts. But maybe, I said _maybe_, don’t you think that he plans to switch it with the real one someday?”

“So you’re saying this is Ron trying on subtlety?”

Ginny chortled. “Yeah, I know, very surprising.” But she sobered quickly. “Really Hermione, you have to consider this might be his way to tell you that he takes this seriously. Both of you are important to me, I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”

“I’m going to dinner _date_ with him and in case you forget, I was the one who ask.” She made the final knot on her bracelet, inspecting that it was tied tightly. She turned to face her flatmate, looking straight to her eyes. “You know me Gin, I don’t have time for casual dating. This is not something I take lightly.”

“If you’re sure ...”

“I want to be happy too, Ginny,” she affirmed.

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. A knock was heard from the front door.

“It must be my brother. Now off you go, girl,” she said while making shushing gesture.

Hermione opened the door and there he was, looking dapper in a dress robes which decidedly more Victorian than Mediaeval. If one of her neighbour saw him, they might think they’re going to a Regency-theme party. For a minute he only stood there, staring at her with mouth slightly open in awe. She cleared her throat, being stared like that started to make her uncomfortable.

“You look pretty,” he sputtered timidly, breaking from his stupor. “This is for you.” He hurriedly handed a bouquet of red roses to her. His smile widen when he noticed the bracelet on her wrist as she accepted the bouquet.

She felt her cheek heating and she took it from his hand, made a motion to inhale its scent just to hide her face. “Thank you. I’ll put it inside then we can go.”

She turned around heading to the kitchen and her eyes landed on Ginny, leaning leisurely against the doorframe complete with mischievous grin adorning her face. She must have witness the proceeding because her face clearly articulated an ‘I told you so’ expression. 

Didn’t want to give Ginny another opportunity to tease her, Hermione swiftly filled the vase with water and set the flowers in it. Snatching her travelling coat on her way, she hastened back to the front door.

“Take her home before nine!” Ginny shouted cheerfully as Hermione hurriedly pushed Ron through the door. But right before the door was closed, Ron had his chance to give her mocking two fingers salute.

“Where are we going?” Hermione queried when they arrived at her usual Apparition spot.

Ron cleared her throat, visibly nervous. “Will you let me?” He offered his arm in his attempted bravado of gentlemanly act.

Hermione giggled, she looped her hand on the curve of his elbow happily. “Of course.”

Regardless of a little stumble in his Side-Along Apparition, she really ought to give him applause for his valiant effort in chivalry, like how he held the door for her or pulled her chair when they arrived on their table. This wasn’t his usual self but it’s really sweet to see him try.

The restaurant choice was also good, a new establishment in Diagon Alley called ‘The Candlelight’. Even though it was only opened for about three months, it already garnered excellent rapport for their service. Owned by a Pure-blood heiress who married a Squip chef, they came up with a concept of wizarding restaurant with Muggle feel, all meals and services were done in Muggle way. It was well known that many wizardkind were not familiar with Muggle world which made them don’t venture much to the other side, so naturally they found this as an amusing new experience.

“I heard it’s hard to get a table here. How you manage to get last minute reservation?” she started. Once they were seated, she could feel a certain magic enveloping their table.

Ron grinned proudly. “I may have to use the war hero card.” Sensing that it didn’t satisfy her curiosity, he expound, “I agree to speak about this place to help them promote it. Well, being Harry Potter’s best friend surely brings some perks. Don’t worry, our dinner will not be mentioned, it’ll remain private. In fact, that’s what they want to promote.

“Most Pure-blood snobs will not want to be seen entering this place and labelled as embracing Muggle culture which bring to this privacy stuff. The room we’re landed earlier was for private arrival and this table is also equipped with privacy enchantment so other guests will not notice us. When we don’t make front page in tomorrow’s paper, it will be a proof for their exceptional service.”

“Wow,” she breathed in appreciation, losing word for a moment so instead she said, “Thank you for arranging this.”

Ron rubbed his neck nervously, the tip of his ears pinked. “Actually I want to take you to Muggle restaurant, but Harry was away and I can’t find any book with proper information so this is the best I can come up.”

Again, Hermione was taken aback with his confession and could only uttered, “You’re looking in the book?”

“Well, obviously I can’t ask George or Percy on how to arrange dinner with a witch, right.” With no response from Hermione, Ron started to fidget. “Oh bugger, I mess this up right? I knew it, following that book will make me look stupid.”

This time, his rambling really turned Hermione speechless. Did he’s just saying that he studied a book for this date? Ronald Weasley who never would touch a book for his schoolwork without her nagging, looking for a book and _read_ it to prepare a date with her? Was it the reason for the flower, door, and chair? An image of Ron reading ‘_101 How to Impress Your Witch_’ made her chest suddenly feel full. It was very sweet of him.

“Err, Hermione? Can we start over this date? Please?”

Hermione was snapped from her reverie, surprised with the question. Did her silence made him think she doesn’t like his gesture? But before she could contradict his assumption, the waiter came with the menu.

Ron let her to place the order first. With how the butterfly in her stomach decided to have a party, she didn’t think she’d care about what she ate so she only ordered common salad and pasta.

“Red wine,” Ron replied on the question about the beverage. “And chocolate mousse for her, please.” Hermione tilted her head quizzically which he noticed. “It’s your favourite, right? I will not let you only eat salad tonight, Hermione.”

“I also order pasta,” she retorted in mock annoyance. Her check started to hurt from restraining her grin.

When their plates arrived, their conversation had been going on swimmingly. True to his word, Ron had started over their date by being his usual self, claiming he’s not comfortable with the whole ‘act’, which was welcomed by Hermione. Although the gentleman-Ron was very charming but honestly she preferred the easy going-Ron. She was reminded that this was why she was attracted to him long ago; his word was honest with no pretentiousness so chatting with him would always relaxing and easy, no necessity to read between the line. Most importantly, he never failed to make her laugh.

She wiped the tear that start leaking while trying to stifle her laugh at his story.

“I swear it was fine before and ... boom. We don’t know how it can happen.” He was recounting the latest incident on one of George newest trial product.

Hermione reached for her glass as her giggle turned into cough, sipping her wine. “Maybe the charm was unstable from the beginning. You know, sometimes it can happen when the casting was slightly off. There’s formula to reduce the effect, making two or several variables balancing each other so a slight mistake will be automatically negated.”

Ron stared blankly at her suggestion, looking lost. He blinked twice and shrugged. “Maybe. George is the one who deal with it, I’m just his guinea pig.”

She was ready to explain her opinion in detail but decided against it, seeing that Ron was clearly not interested in continuing this topic. She’d tell George directly next time she met him then.

Chewing on a piece of beef steak on his fork, made sure to shallow it before he spoke, Ron changed the topic. “Lee dropped by yesterday, he left four tickets for next week match. Puddlemere vs Tornado. Are you interested to go?”

“I don’t know, Ron,” she tried to decline gently. Dinner was one thing, but she still thought Quidditch was just wasting time.

“Oh, come on. This season is very exciting, Hermione. Competition is tight, points between teams are very close in the last standing. And dare I say that Canon will not end at the bottom this year.”

He then narrated the latest game he’d watched in detail and it’s her turn to be lost. Back then at school she’d used to read Quidditch news, she’d been surrounded by Quidditch players after all. It’d been necessary so she wouldn’t be isolated in their conversation. But after the war, she had more important things to keep her busy so even with a professional Quidditch player as flatmate, she’s almost completely blind about what’s happening in the league.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” she interrupted, determined to refuse his invitation and also for the sake of saying something instead of nodding her head vacantly throughout the conversation. “It looks like next week will be busy. There’s no way I can bring my work to the match, right?” she added to levitate the mood, noticing the dishearten look forming in his eyes. “How’s Lee by the way?”

“He said he’ll go to Wales sometimes around this week to record an interview,” he replied, a lopsided smile forming on his mouth. “One more year Hermione, just one more year! Oh, I really can’t wait. Judging from how they play in the league, England may have a shot this time. Although from what I’ve read, they said that Bulgaria finally found some good Chasers and with Krum still on the team, everyone put their bet on them to win the Cup. Then again, Egypt was playing very well in the qualification so they may come out as the dark horse. But still, I’m quite optimistic with our team. I only pray that we’ll get better draw to ensure it.”

It looked like he would continue his prediction on the next World Cup, but he finally noted the minimal response he got from his date in how she played with her pasta and her stiff smile.

“Er, you’re exchanging letter with Krum, right?” As soon as the last word left his mouth, he regretted it instantly. Talking about the man your dating partner used to date was really not a good alternative topic of conversation.

Hermione went rigid for a moment. She reckoned that her answer could potentially end this date in a nasty way. She’s well aware how jealous Ron could be and a jealous Ron was never a good news so she reached her wine glass and sipped it again, buying some time to arrange a ‘safe’ response.

“Not anymore,” she mumbled, eyes following her fork rolling her pasta. “I was on the run, so it’s dangerous to write and after the war I was rather busy with other thing so ... er, it was getting harder to pick the quill to write.”

She glanced up to check his reaction, he was also laying his eyes to his plate.

“Oh.” Only a single syllable to show that he heard her answer. Nobody said a single word or picking their meal for the next five minutes.

“How’s your work? Harry told me you’re working on something about werewolf,” he started cautiously.

Hermione tried to hide her sigh of relief at the question, this was safe ground for them. “Yes. Kingsley’s reconsidering to reopen the Werewolf Support Service and he asked me to make a preliminary assessment.”

“It’s good, right? If he’s still alive, Lupin would be very happy to hear it.”

“Would he? It was closed down the first time because no werewolf ever used it,” she reasoned sedately.

“You’re Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” Ron stated good naturedly, not realising that she flinched when he mentioned the moniker. “You always have the right answer Hermione, so don’t worry, you’ll do well. Ginny told me that you’ve succeeded in your House-Elf Legislation.”

“I’m just revising the Guideline, Ron,” she corrected him.

Ron waved his hand flippantly. “It’s same, right. The point is you’ve accomplished something. And you’ll always have our support.”

Hermione almost lectured him with an explanation on the difference between Legislation and Guideline or how the problem with werewolf couldn’t be compared with House-Elf, but she stopped herself at the last second, it would only lead to unnecessary argument. So instead she only uttered a simple thank you.

They reached the end of conversation again and suddenly she wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. Since he finished with his meal and thought the same for Hermione, Ron called their waiter for the dessert.

“Still no news from Harry?” he tried again.

“No. But it was expected from his job, right?”

He scoffed dryly. “Yeah. The life of an Auror. You know, when I –,” He opened his mouth, maybe to recount his day as one, but closed it again and chose to shove his pudding into it. Their screaming match last year was still fresh in their mind.

Both were focusing on their dessert, or in Hermione’s case, spooned her mousse as little as possible and consumed it slowly to fill the time.

“I still can’t believe that Ginny refused the Seeker position,” Ron started conversationally.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that what she choose.”

“Yeah, right.”

Their talk was stalled again. This was where Harry would usually chime in but he’s not here so again, it had to end abruptly.

The next conversation went in similar fashion, three or four sentences were exchanged before it came to a halt, followed by minutes of silence. The break between was edgy but gradually the atmosphere around them started to feel oppressive.

Ron was the first to crack. He called for their bill, reasoning Ginny’s warning about bringing her home before nine. She nodded in agreement even though she knew that it wasn’t even eight yet. Time had somehow gone slower the longer they were there and getting fresh air sounded like a good idea.

They left from the same room where they arrived, but this time they Disapparated on their own. It wasn’t discussed but it was understood, communicated with a glance because both didn’t utter a single word after leaving their table. But even without signal when they leave, not even a brisk nod, they materialised almost at the same time.

Ron gave her a brief assuring smile, stepping aside to let her go first, and suddenly Hermione could feel a lump in her throat. This night had started very well, she couldn’t let it end like this.

“Want to take a walk for a bit?” she asked hesitantly, making sure that her voice was calm.

The delight in his eyes was very obvious when he said, “Sure. Lead the way.”

She went to the opposite direction from her flat, strolling on the pavement heading to the Manor Park. Of course it was closed, but it’s easy to Apparate inside after making sure that nobody’s around.

Along the way, they walked in comfortable silence. Maybe it was the fresh air or the soothing summer breeze, all tension was dissipated. Hermione didn’t have any specific destination in mind but she stopped near the fountain and sat on one of the bench, Ron followed suit. And that’s what they did, savouring the warm summer night, watching the cascade of moonlight reflection dancing on the water surface.

“Did I tell you that you look pretty tonight?” he said tepidly, studying her appearance.

Her lip twitched upward slightly. “You did. Right in the front door, remember?”

He chortled quietly. “You really look pretty, Hermione. The dress looks good on you,” he averred resolutely.

“Of course! It should be. I spent the whole morning to find this dress after all,” she quipped lightly.

“Since when you like dress shopping?”

“Since never. Your sister dragged me around through I-lost-count-how-many shops. Harry’s absence has really started to peeve her.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Few of her strands had successfully escaped from its confinement, just a gentle breeze was enough to let it loose all over her face. But before she managed to lift her hand to remove it from her eyes, Ron was faster. Tenderly he tucked her curls behind her ear, his finger linger there. His eyes flicked to her lips for a second then looking straight to hers with a soft longing stare.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her breath hitched, it’s not more than a whisper yet she could hear it clearly. She’s rooted in place, couldn’t avert her eyes from his. This was Ron, the boy she had crush on for years. The boy who grew into a man before her eyes but still retained many traits that attracted her younger self. As if she was being hypnotised, her head move on its own accord.

It was soft and gentle, unlike their first where she literally smacked her lips into his. Their lips touched, their first proper kiss without the adrenaline rushing in their veins. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek as he tilted his head, his thumb caressing her jaw.

But there’s something missing. Her heart beat didn’t pick up like what they described in some romance novel she’d read, no tingling feeling where his skin touched hers. Her breath remained steady and she could feel that his too. She opened her eyes as he pulled back, their faces were only inch apart.

He rested his forehead on hers, exhaled a lungful of air. “This is not working, right?”

“Ron ...”

He stroked her cheek one last time before letting go. “Without death looming over our head, it surely feels odd.” He reclined on the bench despondently. “I always picture about us, Hermione. It’s always you, never other girl. Everyone expects – they know – that we will end up together.”

Then it dawned on her, all the reasons that made her apprehensive. Scenes of past memories flashed through her mind; all their conversations, their interactions, their fights. How he made her laugh, how he made her cry, all they’d been through together. She felt the thread bracelet grazing her wrist and she finally understood.

“I love you Ron, I will always love you,” she whispered solemnly. “But I may not what you need.”

He didn’t look at her. “Should it be me who decide what I need and what I don’t?”

“Yes, you are. But can you do that?” she implored, her tone was serene. She turned to face him, but he kept his focus to the fountain.

“Your kind heart always attracts me to you, your loyalty to everything you hold dear,” she began. “I know you still stay at the Burrow for your mother because she needs her child to fuss. You’re helping at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes for George because he needs brother to lean on. And don’t lie to me, you joined Auror partly for Harry because he needed someone on his side and also your guilt for leaving him during Horcrux hunt. Just like what you’re doing to me now.

“Be honest Ron, deep down you still feel guilty for what you did back then at the forest and for not going with me to Australia, right? Tell me if I’m wrong, but aside from George, you chose to help running the joke shop not only because you thought that Harry will be fine on his own now, but also so you can accommodate me. With you at the shop, you can be the constant presence who I can come anytime I want.”

“I do love you, Hermione,” he interrupted her. His tone was firm with no trace of doubt.

“So do I,” she interjected. “But this is not how it goes. I have my own guilt to carry Ron, and if we keep it this way we’ll only destroy each other. I don’t need your penance, Ron. Yes, it hurt me so much when you abandon me, I felt like I wasn’t important enough to deserve your loyalty. But it’s in the past, I forgive you. You already did a lot to make up for it, so let just move on.”

He finally turned to face her, his expression was hopeful. “And when I do, do you think we can make it work?”

“I honestly don’t know, Ron. A lot of things had happened between now and then, it’s been what, three years?” she admitted apologetically. “It’s not only about other people Ron, it’s also about you. You said that you want to find your own path, right? So do that. Do it for yourself and I’ll do it too. And in the meantime, if you meet someone better than me, someone that can make you happy, please don’t make me as an obstacle to be with her.”

“What if it’s you?” He didn’t give up.

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Ron. I can’t ask you to wait for me fixing my own baggage nor dragging you into it. More so I will always run from one goal to another, chasing one challenge and other. I will not change it to anybody because that’s who I am.”

“Yes, I know that.” He sighed. “That’s what fascinates me about you and I will never think to change that. It’s what make you _you_. I always admire how you pursue what you want confidently no matter what people say. It’s something that I think I can’t ever do.”

“Give yourself a chance, Ron.” She reached his hand and squeezed it gently. “I will never be able to forgive myself for stringing you along and prevent you from finding your happiness.”

He nodded pensively, resigned. Both fell into their own contemplation for a while.

“Arrington is a nice bloke,” he blurted unexpectedly.

“Wha–.” Hermione whipped her head to him at his abrupt comment. “Arrington?”

“I’ve seen how you interact with him, Hermione. He clearly can hold conversation with you. That’s one of our problems, right? Most of the time I can’t follow what you’re talking about,” he expounded demurely. “And I saw how he looked at you, it seems he also like you.”

Hermione gaped, not able to hide how she was flummoxed by that statement. Was his jealousy rearing again? She was left speechless for seconds before she could respond. “Do you think I reject you because I have feeling for Martin?”

He sulked in defeat. “It’s okay, I understand.”

She was flabbergasted, and slightly affronted. “How many time I have to tell you we’re only working, Ron. We’re not indulging in some sordid affair behind your back. You know that Nigel is always with us, right?”

Her voice was rising, making Ron backpedal. “I know, I’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologised. Scratching his head in distress, he said, “I did it again, right? I get it, this is what I need to work on as well.”

Definitely it’s his insecurity at play.

“Ron, you really have to start to believe in yourself, okay. Just because some can do thing you can’t, doesn’t mean it will make you any less. You have many talents yourself, take this bracelet for example. Even I have no clue how to do this kind of charm. And nobody ever beat you in chess,” she chastised him.

“Jonas always beat me and once you find the correct book you’ll able to do that charm,” he mumbled.

“That’s not my point,” she snapped. “You don’t need validation from other people to define you, Ron. You said you don’t want to be in Harry’s or my shadow, right? I know you can do it, _you_ should know you can do it.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he spluttered, thoroughly reprimanded.

She couldn’t tell when she moved, but she was standing with stern expression and hands on her hips while Ron sat with slouched back, eyes lowered on his laps. Both stilled as they realised how their current position looked like. Almost at the same time, they blurted a hearty guffaw.

“I will always need you, Hermione,” he said as his laugh subsided. “I won’t know what I suppose to do without you nagging me.”

Hermione waggled her finger on his direction. “No, you don’t. I’m not your mother, Ronald!” she primly admonished him. And their laugh burst out again before gradually dissolved on its own.

“So, this is it then,” said Ron, sober.

Hermione only nodded as an answer.

“Thank you for wearing it.” He gestured to the bracelet on her left wrist.

“Do you want it back?” she asked tentatively.

He shook his head. “It’s a gift for you, Hermione.”

His smile was genuine, so she returned with the same sincerity. “Thank you. And thank you for the date as well.”

He nodded considerately then stood up. “Come on, I need to take you home before Ginny sends a search party,” he said light-heartedly.

Their walk back to her flat was notably better than when they’re heading to the park even though once again they did it in silence. It’s like something had been lifted from her shoulder, made her step lighter. However, another heavy feeling still weighing in her chest, but she could conceal it from surfacing on her face for now.

When Hermione entered her flat, she found Ginny lugging on the sofa watching telly, almost certainly waiting for her to hear about how her dinner date went. Her expression must have betrayed her because with just one glance, Ginny muted the telly and got up, only to return with their ice cream container.

She took a seat beside her, accepting the proffered spoon with a grateful nod. Neither spoke any word through the three first spoons, content with staring at voiceless show on telly. She reached for her fourth spoon, but then withdrew it.

“I can’t lose him, Gin,” she murmured softly, her hands fiddled with her spoon. “I’m not sure I can handle it if I have to lose any of you.”

Ginny grasped her hand, rubbing her palm with her thumb in soothing manner.

Hermione turned her face, bringing her gaze into her flatmate. “He took me to The Candlelight, you know, negotiated his way to get the last minute reservation.” Averting her stare, her eyes landed onto the roses on the kitchen table, a dreamy smile adorning her face. “Those flowers were only the beginning, he continued to behave like a dashing gentleman during the date. It should be a perfect date, a dream come true.”

She leaned her back, chuckling dejectedly. “We know each other for over a decade, yet it only took less than half an hour for our conversation to die down. It’s kind of ironic, we know each other too well, what can push our button, and we end up tip-toeing around like we’re walking in a landmine for the rest of the night, worried that we’d deliberately upset the other.

“I used to think I enjoy arguing with him. We’d argue over silly thing, we’d fight then we’d make up. I’d be angry and so was he, then he’d approach me with that sheepish grin and I’d forgive him and he’d make me laugh again. Back then it was so simple, Gin. But you see, as we grow older, how it can escalate badly. Yes, we both can make an effort to work it out, to compromise, but how long until I’m fed up with his insecurity or he can no longer tolerate my ego.

“I’m scare, Gin. I’m scare that we’ll reach that point where we’ll snap and we’ll hurt each other so bad that we can’t salvage our relationship, that we can’t even become friend anymore. I can risk it to happen, Gin. Even though my parents are still alive, but I’m as good as orphan. I don’t even know where’s Crookshanks right now. You, Harry, and Ron are all I have and I can’t lose any of you. I can’t risk that.”

“Oh, Hermione ...” Ginny scooted closer, setting her arm around her shoulder.

“I can see him trying. Gin,” Hermione continued. “But I have my insecurity too. Will he leave again when things get hard like he did in the forest or like he did with his Auror job? Or does he do it because he genuinely loves me or it’s his guilt for leaving me back then? I can’t shake it off from my mind yet, it keeps disturbing me like a thorn. He deserves better than that, Gin.

“He’s a good man, our Ron. He’s loyal, very perceptive, and always bring laugh to people around him. He always giving, never taking.” She sighed deeply. “He needs someone to take care of him, someone to support him, to be his home. And I can’t be her. I’m selfish Gin, I know that I won’t sacrifice my career for him and he deserves better than being supporting character his whole life. No, I can’t destroy him like that. I’ll lose him completely that way.”

The tears that threaten to spill awhile ago stared leaking when she blinked. Once a drop had escaped, the dam broke and others followed, cascading down her cheeks. Ginny instantly pulled her, enveloped her into her embrace as she buried her face into her neck, crying her heart out.

She knew this is the right thing to do, she completely understood. Then again, years harbouring the feeling and then when it’s right in her grasp for her to seized it, she must let it go. It’s not just loss, it’s more than hurt, but it’s what it was, it must be done.

Ginny held her tightly, making hushing noise to mollify her. She didn’t let go until her sob reduced into a quite hiccup. And only then, after she removed herself – tearstained and blotchy cheeks – did Ginny get up to go to their kitchen. Ten minutes later, she came back with a cup of tea, placing it on the brunette’s hand. She took a sip and immediately she felt much calmer.

“Remember my first two years in Hogwarts? I could barely utter a single word in front of Harry. You said that I projecting my fantasy too much on him that I failed to see him as real person. Back then you told me to loosen up a bit and broaden my perspective so I could see the real him, not just the idea of Harry Potter. And it worked.

“On the contrary, you and Ron were friend first, learning about each other from scratch. But you’re always involved in one extreme adventure to another that in some way might cloud your judgement so when you removed the adrenalin, everything looks completely different.”

“You notice?”

She nodded. “I’m worried to be honest. Your relationship was too intense, you’re very high strung while he’s very laid back. In a way, you two may able to balance each other,” she pondered wishfully. “Both of you are important for me and I want you two to be happy. What a perfect way it would be if you find it in each other.”

She took her cup, putting it on the table, then reached out and held onto Hermione's hand, giving hers a gentle squeeze. “I’ll return your advice, Hermione. To loosen up a bit and broaden your perspective does sound like a good idea.”

Hermione’s eyes shifted to her bracelet. She freed her hand from Ginny’s grip and lifted it, showing it to her friend. “You know Gin, in Muggle world we call this kind of bracelet like this as friendship bracelet, handmade to be given to a friend. How fitting is it, right?”

She inhaled deeply. Her voice was no longer shaky when she spoke. “If this will be the biggest mistake in my life, then let it be. I’m ready with the consequences, including watching him finding someone else and being happy with her. Just promise me Gin, if that day comes and I need a shoulder to cry on, lamenting my stupidity of letting him go, promise me that you’ll be there for me. Please remind me of my decision today, that I should never regret this.”

Once more Ginny wrapped her arm around her shoulder, holding her close.

“I’ll be there, Hermione. And I promise you’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Manor Park that’s mentioned in this chapter (and in chapter 3 if you remember) has nothing to do with Malfoy manor. It’s a real park in Sutton, Greater London which is where Hermione’s flat located.
> 
> This chapter is my love letter to Romione, why I don’t think they’re good for each other.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	15. Letting Go

It was quite admirable that through her muddled mind, Hermione still managed to return Brook’s greeting with a weak brief smile. She didn’t respond on his offer for a tea though, hurriedly exiting the International Transit Area right away. Along the way, she reminded herself to control her breathing, chanting _hold on, not here_. Her heart beat faster and her vision becoming blurry.

She reckoned she couldn’t trust herself to Apparate anywhere in this state, but she needed to be somewhere, anywhere, where she could be alone. Unfortunately, her staggering leg couldn’t even able to bring her pass the fountain. Which was how Harry found her, ragged breath and knuckle’s white for gripping the fountain’s edge too hard.

He rushed toward her, wrapping his arm on her shoulder.

“Hermione, you okay?” he enquired, sounding as if it came from far away.

There’s three seconds delay for her fuzzy vision to identify him, it was her ears that recognised his voice first. Her lips made some movement but no sound came out so instead, she gave a shaky nod. However, her trembling lips and pleading look was noticed by her friend.

“Malfoy, secure the evidences and make preliminary report. Leave it on my desk if I haven’t be back when you’re done. I’ll do the rest,” he commanded over his shoulder.

Only then that she realised that Harry wasn’t alone, a blond wizard in dark robes was standing behind him. She didn’t have time to note his reaction though because Malfoy just wordlessly left without protest as Harry seized her into his hold to support her. She was barely aware of her surrounding when she felt a sucking sensation of Apparition.

The next second, they were materialised in the much cleaner living room of Grimmauld Place. On the right time because Hermione had reached her limit. She collapsed on the floor, bringing down Harry with her, and dissolved into a sobbing mess.

Harry must be bewildered by her crying heap but even though he didn’t know her reason, he cradled her into his arm, whispering, “Shh ... it’s okay, Hermione. It’s okay,” while stroking her spine soothingly.

Conversely, it only made her renewed her weep. She burrowed her face further against his chest, clutching his shirt tighter. The snot running freely from her nose must have ruined his clothing, but he didn’t seem to care. He kept holding her for the next half an hour later, even when his feet were dead for remaining still that long.

When her cry eventually dissipated into soft whimper, Harry guided her to stand and then deposited her into the settee. She didn’t unleash her vice grip on his shirt so he sat beside her, arm on her waist.

"They’re gone," she choked out, wiping her nose with her hand to prevent ruining his shirt any further.

She felt he went tense for a moment before tightening his hold on her. Harry was aware of her plan to visit Australia today so he must know who she’s referring to, yet he didn’t say anything and only continued running his thumb over her palm.

“I waited in the usual park, they’ll always go there for their weekend walk but –,” she let out a short hiccup. “but they never appeared so I went to their house and they’re gone.”

Tears flowed on her cheek again, she snivelled for a time but Harry steady comforting hand slowly calmed her. She took mouthful of air, filling her lung, before she spoke again. “They sold their practice, their house. Nobody knows where they went.”

“They left Australia?” he clarified cautiously, holding his breath.

She sniffed, nodding weakly. “They left on May. They told them they want to travel the world but they sold everything. They don’t plan to return. Why Harry, why they left? Now I really lose them, I’ll never see them again.”

Seeing her eyes welled up again, he swiftly gathered her into his arm. “Shh, we’ll find them okay. We’ll track them,” Harry cooed.

“They can be anywhere,” she feebly argued.

“Hey-hey-hey, look at me.” He cupped her cheek, forcing her to face him. “Listen here. 3 years ago you went to Australia _alone_ and you found them easily, but now you have me, you have Ron, you have Ginny. You have more resources than 3 years ago. And do you forget that I’m Auror now? My job is to track people, Hermione. Even the Minister of magic can attest that I’m quite good in my job.”

“But they’re Muggle.”

This might be the first and only time Harry eye rolled her. “Oh please, I’m not some Pure-blood who has no clue how Muggle world works.”

She nodded weakly but didn’t look convinced yet.

“I don’t know where to start,” she muttered pitifully. “Nobody knows why they left. It was very sudden, they’ve only been there for 4 years.”

“Do you think that ...,” Harry trailed off, alarmed.

She shook her head faintly. “No, I didn’t find any trace of magic there.” Her expression turned glum again. “Is this my punishment, Harry? I drove away my parents and now they really leave me?”

“Hush, what are you talking about? Remember, you told me that your parents love travelling right? It’s normal for couple to go for a long vacation,” he assuaged her. “And if you want to blame someone, then blame me. It all happened because of me.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Harry pointed a scolding finger at her to silence her.

“You are The Brightest Witch of Her Age and they said that I’m The Chosen One. With Ron, people call us The Golden Trio.” Hermione scoffed at the monikers, but Harry continued on, “Together, we found and destroyed Horcrux despite the insufficient clues. We’re also defeated the most feared Dark Wizard in recent history. So believe me Hermione, we most definitely can find your parents. Oh, and I’m pretty sure Ginny will want to join our latest adventure. And I’ve learnt in hard way that when Ginny want something, she’ll get it,” he said the last part in light playful tone and it succeeded to coax a smile from her.

Hermione nodded, this time with more certainty. She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “I think I need to stop celebrate my birthday for awhile, Harry. Only bad things happen, it’s like I was cursed,” she murmured softly.

***

She admitted that she was being coward, hiding at the Balcony. Then again, within only the last three days Ginny and Harry had managed to suffocate her with their attentiveness. She knew that they did it out of love, not pity, and she did appreciate that but they had overdone it. Then last night, she’d also seen a message on their DA Galleon that Ron would return from Romania which meant either Ginny or Harry must have told him about her parents.

Typical Ron. Didn’t he realise that his message would appear in _all_ Galleon? She had to think how to alter it so it could be used to send private message before _real_ private information was accidentally shared to unintended person. Maybe she’d ask Harry or Arrington, Auror Office must have a method to communicate with each other beside owl post and speaking Patronus, right?

Or maybe it was just Ron being Ron, returned to England for her birthday. Despite saying that he’d wanted to spend summer with his brother, it’s obvious that he did it because of their recent ‘breakup’, he needed space. Yet he would come back willingly to celebrate her birthday, especially after the abysmal episode last year, he would try his best to make it up for her. And if he knew about her parents, she was sure he’d do everything in his capacity to help her find them.

The sweet and kind-hearted Ron, maybe she’d never meet anyone like him ever again in her whole life. To this day, when she was alone like now, sometimes she lamented whether her decision was right.

Ron was a safe option, but she wasn’t ready for relationship right now. She had a lot of things to fix first and to throw a relationship in the mix wouldn’t be wise. On the other hand, it would be wrong to take advantage of his compassion and stringing him along.

Yes, it was the right decision. If she’s lucky, maybe she’d have her second chance, somewhere in the future when both of them were ready. But for now, she had to accept the circumstance and not denying the reality, including about her parents.

Deep down, her brain could fathom that the possibility of finding her parents was slim, close to none. Of course she would have better chance if she got some help from Interpol, by Confunding an agent maybe. But even as a joke, it did sound atrocious. So instead of hanging on a false hope, would it be better if she just gave up and accepted it as it was?

She got up and strode to the edge, leaning on the balustrade to enjoy the landscape. Even the weather was in agreement with her melancholy mood. Everything looked grey; cloudy, no sun, but the rain was unwilling to drop by, and how the leaves were on the beginning of changing colour only made it looked pallid and dreary.

The noise from the door open disturbed her contemplation, but she didn’t turn around to know who’s coming. By the sound of it, her presence seemed like to surprise him instead which was understandable since he’d witnessed her near breakdown on Sunday. There’s eight minutes of silence until the click of door closing was heard, he might be pondering whether he would stay or leave. A faint sound of footstep indicated that he decided the former.

“You’re here.”

“Hi, Malfoy,” Hermione responded evenly, not moving her gaze from where it was.

She didn’t really put his arrival in mind, most likely he would leave her alone in her own thought. That was how their arrangement anyway, sharing space in the same vicinity. So naturally she was stunned when he approached her instead, proffering a small paper bag.

“For you,” he said flatly.

Between confusion and curiosity, she took it from his hand. Inside was a book, an old book judging from the dirty yellow colour of its pages. Carefully, she took it out from the bag and she gasped.

_Revisiting Magical Lore_ by Eustace Hordwill was written with golden ink on its leather cover.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded. “Do you realise how rare this book is?”

He shrugged. “Keep it. It’s technically mine, so I can do as I please with it. It’s been collecting dust for years anyway. After this, you won’t have any excuse about wizarding bedtime story again,” he added flippantly.

She leafed through the pages as gently as she could manage with her shaking finger. Her lips trembled, her whole body shivered from containing her excitement. It smelled like an old paper but still in very good condition, the script was still clearly visible and readable. She caught glimpse of several illustrations; Elf, hairy human, a structure resembled Stonehenge ....

Since she’s found the annotation, she’d been hunting the book high and low everywhere with no result except for some information that the original was written in German and believed to be lost while there’s only eight known copies of English (and only foreign) translation existed which was expected to be heavily guarded in some collector’s shelves. Not even Hogwarts and Ministry Library had it.

“You sure you want to give this book to me?” she clarified in disbelief.

He stuck his hand out. “Give it back if you don’t want it.”

“No! I’m keeping it,” she recoiled promptly, pressing the book onto her chest hard. “Today is my birthday. I consider it as gift so you can’t take it back, _ever_.”

It was a very childish reasoning, but he looked amused.

“Ah. Happy birthday then,” he said wryly.

She beamed brightly and without a thought she uttered, “Thank you, Draco!”

The name just slipped through her lips and it was already too late when she realised what she’d said. But this was not her first slip up in front of him so instead of apologising for overstepping, she charged forward. “I can call you Draco, right?”

If he’s surprised with her forwardness, he didn’t show it. “Well, that’s my name.”

She presented him with a smirk that she hoped can rival his. “You can call me Hermione if you want. I’ve considered you my friend, you know.”

“Well, thank you for the honour but I’ll have to decline. It’s too mouthful, I’ll go with Granger,” he refused drily.

Her lips quirked, his sullen haughty behaviour made it too tempting not to tease him. “Is it too hard for you to pronounce it?”

He raised his eyebrows higher, looked affronted. “I can pronounce it just fine, _Hermione_.”

A smug and victorious grin was plastered on her face immediately and lingered for awhile, but he ignored it. Languidly he lay on his usual bench she’d occupied earlier, propping his hands under his head and closing his eyes.

This was the first. Sure they had caught each other napping here, but never once any of them took a nap _when_ the other was around. Hermione was also aware that he’s more guarded than her, so this said something for their dynamic. Being a Gryffindor, she decided to strike ahead, testing this new territory.

“I heard about your father,” she said blandly.

If she didn’t watch him closely, she would miss how his body went tense for a moment. But that was the only reaction he let out. He kept still, eyes closed.

“Potter told you,” he stated curtly, still in the same position. There’s an edge in his tone, though Hermione couldn’t interpret what it was for.

“No, I was checking Pure-blood register and I saw that the Malfoy estate is registered under your name. I know it’s tied on bloodline so for it to be under your name, the previous owner should already be gone.”

She didn’t get any response so she went on. “I’m not sorry, Draco,” she confessed bluntly. “I won’t lie to you. I’m sorry that you lost your father, but I’m not sorry that Lucius Malfoy is dead.”

He didn’t react. Even in normal situation, it’s hard to ascertain his demeanour, more so when he’s still.

She remembered how he used to gloat about his father back then in their early school year. It’s obvious for everyone that his father was his everything. What happened later on more or less must have shattered whatever impression he had. Putting it in mind, his last breakdown was appropriate. It must be _the day _he found out.

She felt she owed him something for witnessing his private moment. That’s why he’d gone to this place that day, to be alone. Yet, by chance she’d been there and without each other consent, she had witnessed what must be one of his lowest moment. She could imagine he must fell vulnerable and exposed that time.

She felt obliged to do something for him. And didn’t she just declare him as her friend awhile ago? With that resolve in mind, she tried again.

“In our last year at Hogwarts, you accused me of daydreaming,” she narrated. Recognising that her stare might make him feel scrutinised and become defensive, she leant her body on the balustrade and shifted her gaze to the sky.

“You’re right. It was my lowest point and my mind often blank out. Twice I sleepwalked, wandering through empty corridor with no recollection on how or why I was there. The after effect of the war and losing my parents had really taken toll on me. It took awhile, but in the end I can accept it. And now, I really have to let them go for good.

“You see, although they still breathe and walk freely under the sun, but technically I killed my parents. While as for them, I killed their only daughter. I took away their life, erasing their existence. By definition they're basically dead, just no bodies to be buried. But now, I might as well hold a funeral ceremony so I can get my closure.”

She paused for a moment to preserve her composure, heaving a long sigh.

“They’re gone,” she stated flatly. “Sunday when you saw me at the atrium, I’ve just returned from Australia to visit my parents, or to watch them from afar to be precise. But I found out that they no longer lived there, nobody knows where they go.” She blinked, just so the wetness in her eyes didn’t pool on one corner. To ensure nothing would escape, she titled her head upward. “I can’t help to think that maybe this is my punishment. But I want to believe that this is the universe telling me to stop clinging to the past and move on.”

She had shed more than enough tears in the past three days, especially this morning as she lay awake on her bed, remembering what day was today. Yes she’d lost some, but she also still had other that she might lose if she didn’t drag herself to move forward.

“I never know whether he ever saw me as his son or just as his heir.”

She was jolted from her reverie by his voice, she didn’t anticipate him to say anything after all. With a quick sideway glance she noted that like her, he was also staring to the sky. His expression was vacant of any emotion. She returned her attention to the cloudy sky, letting him to continue if he’s willing to.

“It’s always about duty to the family, everything was revolving around the surname I carry. Long ago, I convinced myself that he cared about me in his own way, including when he said that he became Death Eater for the better of our family, that it was for my future.”

He sniggered self-deprecatingly. “And look where it brought me today. I can’t even decide should I be glad or sad with his passing.”

“Past tense,” she remarked. “But life still goes on, Draco. And despite all of that, there’s still more to come that _can_ and _will_ happen later on. It’s a big world, a lot to explore." She sighed loudly, turning her gaze to him. “In fact, that’s what I’ll do. Start anew and stop hiding. I learnt in very hard way that it’s always better to face it head on.”

“Gryffindor,” he scoffed under his breath.

She lifted her chin proudly. “Yes, I am. But I thought a Slytherin ought to know how to slither, not just staying idle. Or am I wrong?” she challenged.

An amused smirk took a shape on his face. “Very well, Granger. Very well indeed.”

\---***---

_Her pale flowing dress swirled as she turned around and he was stunned because this was the first time he saw a frown adorning her face, her usual smile was also conspicuously missing. Moreover, her golden locks was strangely sparkling more than usual. _

_“I’ll be honest with you,” she said concisely. “This time, I will not be able to reason him. I can’t even comprehend why or how he did it. It was clearly a breach of his duty.”_

_He blinked, startled, grasping at her words. The nature of her attitude somehow had distracted him more than before. Eventually he noticed the incongruity surrounding him._

_There’s a slight altercation in the Flow, something like a blip here and then whilst righting itself. Dare he claimed that he could feel soft breeze passing him, it’s a sense he’s very familiar with after all, something that was hard for him to mistakenly define. And it’s possibly true because when he looked closely, he caught a seamless wave on the surface of the pond. Regardless how she always played with it, this was certainly very unusual._

_“You’re affected,” he noted solicitously._

_“He granted a Gift. His role as Praevians is to Guide, it’s not his place to interfere.” She gazed longingly to the centre of the pond where the splash of light emerged. “I’ve done everything I can think of and not once, never I was able to disturb the Flow. But to do it from out there ... I’m astonished.”_

_He felt a tingle on his cheeks and to release the sensation, he twitched the corner or his mouth slightly upward._

_“Is that the word you choose, Amber? I have to congratulate the Praevians for his accomplishment then. Here comes a time he made Praeses amazed.”_

_She shook her head faintly and, finally, offering him her tender smile. Yet, this was one of smile he never saw before, which naturally instigated a different tug of feel in his chest he hadn’t known._

_“A pure soul was affected. From then, his life will be bound, so do every one in his line. It’s the only way to return the balance,” she said pensively, almost in whisper. “I presume you will react differently. It must be a rather noteworthy Ripple you dealt with.”_

_He would contemplate the shift in her conduct later. There’re a lot of new discoveries he gathered at a time and he preferred to give exacting consideration for each one, wouldn’t want to miss anything or misconstrued things._

_“Surprisingly no. It was a young soul, in the first place it always has many possibilities ahead.” Still in his serene demeanour, he averred, “Furthermore if I knew you’ve reprimanded him that way, it won’t be necessary for me to assert it again to him.”_

_It succeeded to incite her bright wide smile, spark of mirth in her eyes. Regrettably, it dimmed as fast as it appeared._

_“So this is what it supposes to be,” she reflected pensively._

_He yearned to touch her hand, just to know how it felt like, but he refrained. “How could I know what plan Fate has, Praeses.”_

_She nodded in affirmation. “There would be a price to be paid, there will always be,” she stated. “For Phiero as well, that’s how it works. Nonetheless if he was questioned, most certainly he will do it again, never a regret.”_

_“How each Anteris can be so different,” he noted._

_She tilted her head curiously. “I do wonder,” she started conversationally,” you keep calling me Anteris or Praeses. Even though with your rank, you’re allowed to call me by my name, especially as we’re not on a Rite here.”_

_He maintained his facial expression. “Isn’t it what you are?”_

_“Indeed,” she huffed. “And it’s true that I’m Amber, but the Almitas had given me a name of Eiliea.”_

_“I prefer Amber,” he interjected lightly._

_She looked amused at his answer. “Is my name too hard for you to pronounce, Your Highness?”_

_“Are you accusing me of being lazy, Your Eminence?” he countered in similar frisky tone. “And I remember I gave you permission to call me by my name as well, right? Yet not once you ever voice it.”_

_And the crisp sound of her lively laugh had made its return._

_“Oh, I will,” she _ _chirped cheerfully. “Somewhen in time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t guessed from chapter 4, the amber part is from Greek mythology of Heliades. It’s said that they turned into poplar tree as they mourned their brother’s death and then their tears turned into amber.


	16. Apprehension

Life had a very effective way to remind people how insignificant they were in his grand scheme. No matter how big a tribulation they’d been through, Life would still go on. Time would not pause or even stop for them, the sun would still up in the sky like the day before and the day after. Even any impacted alteration would steadily be adjusted and corrected, time would heal any wound. Of that, Hermione understood very well.

She had given up her first love and then later, her two most important persons in her life as well. They might not go for good, but that fact didn’t make it less hurt. Even so, each day she would leave her flat, walked the same pavement, sat on her desk, awhile later Ronan would arrive and said ‘good morning’, worked on basically same paperwork, did her house visit or spent her time either in library or Grey Room, and ended her day in almost similar routine as the previous day.

Meanwhile, the landscape had changed colour, temperature gradually dropped and in one of those days snow had fallen. The festive had passed in a flash and puddle of water started to appear along the road as the air got warmer. It wouldn’t be long until buds flourished at the tip of tree branches.

“For Ginny! The best Chaser in Britain!”

“Top scorer in the League for five weeks in a row!”

Five glasses were raised for a toast. The clink sound was drowned in the noise of the pub, but it didn’t diminish the large grin on her face.

Today’s match was short and uneventful so unlike the past usual post-match where there’s always a lengthy debrief, Reggie let the team leave early. And with the fact that Hermione was there – which was almost a miracle itself – they decided to stop by at the Leaky for little celebration.

Ginny’s stubbornness to stay in Chaser position had finally been paid off on early December. One of the main Chasers had resigned from the team so Ginny had been promoted to be starter. Previously, Ginny had already gotten a title of ‘super sub’ on her team so it wasn’t really surprising when her performance soared rapidly once she joined the main team. Her chemistry with the other two Chasers was never a problem since Reggie always made sure to rotate her player when the match went too long.

It’s not that Hermione had suddenly cared about Quidditch after Ginny’s reputation rose, the reason she’s willing to tag along was Amy. Since Hermione declined invitation to watch Quidditch match more often than not, the last extra free ticket – courtesy of Ginny or Lee – always went to Amy who apparently was a Quidditch fan. The problem was that her father wouldn’t allow her to go with only men as her company. Usually there was Angelina or Ginny if it wasn’t Harpies’ match, but for some reason Angelina had to pull off today.

When Ginny started to help at the joke shop, the two had developed close friendship quickly. Then after Amy became regular fixture in their Quidditch entourage, she never missed Ginny’s match and no-chaperone was certainly not a good reason to start doing that. So when Ginny and Amy cornered her two days ago, Hermione had caved.

Looking at how Amy discussing the match with Harry and Ron, Hermione wouldn’t deny that sometimes she envied how easy Amy had fit into their group. Though with her soft spoken and sweet attitude there’s no way she could hate her, quite the opposite after spending time with her, she liked her a lot.

“Hey Ron, isn’t that your ‘admirer’?” Ginny teased.

Harry followed her gaze and a mischievous smile lit up his face. “Ah yes, it’s that girl I kept seeing at the shop, right?”

Ron groaned, his face turned miserable. He pushed his chair so he would be more hidden by the shadow and hissed, “Shut it, won’t you! And lower your voice or she will hear you!”

Of course they had cast Muffling Charm around them beforehand, but Ron seemed to temporary forget it.

“She’s quite pretty,” Hermione noted without missing a beat.

“Not you too, Hermione!” he wailed, which only incited a generous laugh from everyone.

The girl was actually good looking, yet in the past week Ron had been rigorously trying to evade her. Hermione’s visit to the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was very infrequent, but even she saw how the girl had relentlessly pursuing him. She couldn’t imagine how bad it was in reality, still it was too tempting not to join Ginny and Harry.

Hermione was happy that everything turned out well between her and Ron. Sure, they still weren’t comfortable to invite the other to lunch, but they no longer held an expectation to look good in front of the other so now they were able to tease each other freely again. Once or twice someone might cross the line and upset the other, but the weight of their fight was no longer as heavy as before.

As she predicted, when Ron had been informed about her parents’ predicament, he poured his thought wholeheartedly into it. He was the first one who came out with the solid plan on how to find her parents since Harry and Ginny were too busy to fuss on her. Harry had told him about how Muggle travelled by flying on a plane, so he suggested if they could track their flight just like they did for Portkey. And then as her parents was said to travel for vacation, they could started their search in some tourist attraction.

It was a very feasible plan but Hermione had rejected it when he offered himself to be the one who did the search as the other three had basically tied down to their respective job. She’d had to play the guilty card – that she didn’t want to be blame if Ron ended up sacrificing his life for futile pursuit – to make sure that Ron wouldn’t go with his plan on his own volition.

He hadn’t given up and proposed to ask help from Lee and his fellow reporters, in the first place they would travel the world to cover about Quidditch World Cup anyway. Noticing his keenness, for a second it had made her question her decision to let him go. In the end she had turned his idea down, to involve reporter would only attract more attention and it would be counterproductive as the main reason she’d sent her parents away was to hide them.

She then had told her friends that she decided not look for her parents. After all, even if she could find them, there’s nothing she could do about their memories. It would be wiser if she just made peace with the situation. She had new family in the three of them anyway. And that last statement had managed to completely close any argument pertaining her parents hereafter.

“But what if she does like you, Ron? I think she looks genuinely interested.” Amy’s candid comment broke their laugh.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Oh, she does like me, but only because my face is on chocolate card,” he muttered grumpily. “Harry mate, I feel you. So this is how it’s like to have groupies following you around. She really scared the hell out of me when she grabbed a Love Potion from the rack yesterday. George should stop selling it, it’s dangerous.”

“Care to share your experience to the class, brother of mine?” Ginny certainly hadn’t done making fun of her brother. “And here I thought you like attention,” she pouted at his scathing glare.

“But not for wrong reason,” he huffed, then turning to Harry. “Sorry mate, but being your best friend is not an achievement.”

Harry look at him with an exaggerated hurt expression while Ginny patted his shoulder assuredly.

“Well-well-well, that’s very wise of you, Ron,” she crowed. “But seriously, you can’t just keep avoiding her. For the better of you both, soon or later you need to confront her. Reggie has another crazy idea and I will not have any more time to spare to help at the shop, you won’t have me to protect you, Ron.”

Ron waved his hand flippantly. “Nah, I’ll manage. Besides, it won’t be long until George convinces Angelina to work permanently at the shop. I still can stay away from the counter. And there’s Amy, you will always stay with us, right Amy?”

“No. I think she needs to leave now.” A new voice entered their perimeter. Hannah Abbott was standing behind Amy, a bowl of chips in her hand.

“Your chips, Harry.” She handed the bowl to the raven haired wizard, then turned to the girl seated next to him. “You father asked me to remind his ‘Sweet Little Amy’ not to be home late. He already asked Tom so you can use our fireplace to Floo home.”

It was as if Ron’s ear twitched for a second there, his lips formed a smirk. “Sweet little Amy, huh?

“Shut up, Abbott!” she hissed. She threw a piercing cold glare to Ron, finger pointed at him menacingly. “Not a single word or I’ll have your tongue on platter, Ronald Weasley!”

Ginny cracked a chirpy snicker. “My, are you sure you’re Hufflepuff, Amy?”

“100% pure and proud Hufflepuff,” she confirmed firmly, chest puffed and chin lifted up. “Lions are not the only one who can bite, you know.”

“Aww, the cute fluffy badger shows its claw,” Ginny taunted back.

“You lions always think too high of yourself, you know.” Hannah took her stand for support. “In a way, badger is stronger and braver than lion. Lion will choose to retreat when facing bigger opponent, but badger won’t hesitate to strike when provoked.”

Ginny gaped at her comeback. “Oh really?! Hermione, back me up here.” She nudged her flatmate with her elbow.

Hermione rubbed her arm. “Well, Hannah is right,” she shrugged. “What? It’s a fact.”

Not only Ginny, but Harry and Ron also eyed her incredulously while Hannah and Amy clapped their hands victoriously.

“It’s good that you still have a clear minded lion among you,” Hannah praised.

The intensity Ginny glowered on her almost made Hermione cower.

“You, Granger, are a disgrace for the House of Lion,” she decreed, prodding her finger onto her chest. “You should be banished to the Raven’s Nest, or better, join the badger. Even your Patronus is an otter, you’ll fit there.”

She swatted her hand from her body. “Oh please, you’re the one who live in the _Burrow_.”

“Hey, that’s low blow!”

“Girls, please,” Amy interrupted them. “We know both of you are lioness, no need to prove it with a cat fight. Hannah’s right, it’s late, I really need to go.” She stood up and gathered her belonging. “And Ron, I forgot to tell you, Lee left Canon’s tickets yesterday. I slipped it into your locker.”

Ron nodded in affirmation, but Hermione caught him exchange a knowing glance with Ginny. She didn’t comment for now as Amy bided her goodnight and left with Hannah.

Harry was the first who broke the silence. “It’s hard to believe that she still has curfew, out of school and at her age.”

“Yeah, her father is really something,” Ron piped up. “Have I ever told you how he interrogated me and George? I think it’s the only job interview where the candidate’s father was the one who decide whether we’re suitable and good enough to _employ_ _her_.” He shook his head in amazement. “I always thought he calls her ‘Princess’, but George’s wrong as well so nobody win the bet.”

“What’s with the glance you two share a while ago,” Hermione chimed-in, motioning her finger to Ron and Ginny. “Right before Amy left. I know it has nothing to do with her curfew or the bet of how she’s been called at home.”

Ron and Ginny stared at each other, both were grinning.

“Lee finally made a move,” Ginny stated.

Hermione and Harry posed similar puzzled look.

“He fancies Amy,” Ron supplied. “I used to think he left four tickets to push George and Angelina together, but apparently he has his own agenda. He knew there’s no way Hermione would watch Quidditch so I will take Amy. Rather smooth, but sadly when he finally plucked his courage to approach her directly, she misunderstood that it was for me. Not only her naivety but with a father like hers, Lee will need a huge amount of luck if he wants to date her.”

“No wonder she wants to work in International Department. If Dad starts acting like that, I’ll run away,” Ginny muttered.

“Wait, I thought George and Angelina have been dating for awhile?” Harry interjected.

“It’s complicated,” Ginny replied. “What’s they called it that girl movie? Ah, it’s casual fling or maybe friend with benefit.”

Ron plopped a chip into his mouth. “George doesn’t want to have attachment, especially after Fred.”

“And Angelina has lived with her mother in Muggle world after her father died. She’s familiar with that kind of relationship. I say they’re made for each other,” Ginny finished it for them.

Hermione frowned. “And your mother is okay with it?”

It was a rhetorical question because in no way Hermione could picture any scenario where Molly Weasley would allow such behaviour from her children. She had even kicked her eldest son from the Burrow when Fleur had stayed there so they would not sleep in the same room even though they’re already engaged.

“Mum doesn’t know yet, but it’s his problem. Between us sibling, we don’t poke our nose into each other business.”

“Is it just me or Malfoy seems to be around quite a lot lately.”

At first the way Ron blurted it out abruptly made Hermione think that he was reluctant to continue the conversation about George and wanted to change topic, but when she followed his eyes, Draco was indeed there, sitting alone at the bar.

Seeing him like that, she was reminded that in the past few months she had seen him in more place than the Balcony. She couldn’t recall when the last time they shared words since without the _protection_ of the Balcony, their interaction at the Atrium or DMLE corridor was not more than a passing glances. Several times she went to the Balcony, she didn’t find him there.

She wouldn’t try to guess why Draco didn’t approach her and greeted her but even if he did, she wasn’t sure she would reciprocate. A small meaningless talk between her and Draco in public would surely attract unnecessary attention, something that she preferred to avoid. It wasn’t that they’re close to begin with and she was also the one who’d urged him to stop hiding in the first place so she shouldn’t complain when he did. Nonetheless, there was a little – very tiny – feeling of lost in her chest. Nobody else could argue with her the way he did, she missed their banter.

“Draco is no longer on probation, he’s free to go anywhere he wants,” Harry said offhandedly, raising his glass to his lip.

Ginny’s eyebrow piqued. “Draco?”

Harry cocked on his drink at her accusing tone. “I’m dealing with three Malfoys, I’m used to refer them by their given name in conversation so there’ll be no confusion,” Harry spluttered, trying to cover his slip up. “So who’s you’re playing next, Gin?”

This was an obvious attempt to deflect the conversation, but Ginny wouldn’t have it.

“Oh, really?” She eyed Draco suspiciously then returned it back to her boyfriend, dressing him down from head to toe. After she satisfied, she studied her nails as if it was more interesting than the man in front of her. “You haven’t told me what you did last summer with him in the continent.”

Her voice was calm, but cold. How Harry’s eyes started to wander around as if looking for an escape only made him looked guilty.

“It was work and he’s my partner, Gin,” he tried to appease her. “You said you have forgiven me for missing your birthday. And who said I was in the continent.”

Ginny scoffed. “No time to write a letter, yet you had time to buy an expensive and hard-to-get chocolate. I’m not stupid, Harry. You might change the packaging, but I know that chocolate is only produced in Switzerland. Lucy’s father works there and she always brings some every time she back from visiting him, I know its taste.”

Ron jumped in. “Few weeks dallying in the continent together and now you’re in first name basis? Should I worry that you will dump my sister for _Draco_, mate?” After only watched for awhile, Ron sensed his chance for revenge.

Harry gaped, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, overwhelmed by two simultaneous ‘attacks’. He clearly hid something and since he never kept any secret from them, it became a problem for him. On the other hand, most likely it was work so by default he’s not supposed to disclose it to them.

The conflict visible in Harry expression was hilarious. Couldn’t hold it any longer Hermione busted out a laugh. “Oh come on you two, stop messing up with him!”

While Ginny could suppress it into an amused snicker, Ron didn’t hold back in his jovial guffaw. However, even after seeing their reaction the wariness didn’t disappear from Harry’s face.

“They’re only making fun of you, Harry. I can attest that Ginny didn’t hold any grudge over her birthday,” Hermione assured him. “But just to be safe, try to clear your schedule this year.”

Ginny didn’t say anything, but she nodded to assert her statement.

Harry sighed in relief, he turned his attention to his redhead best friend. “Just to clear up everything. Are you okay with this too, Ron?” At his questioning stare he added, “Me stopping to tell you stuff. I know you hate it when I keep things from you.”

“I was Auror, mate. I know what secret mission means,” said Ron lightly in response.

“Including the fact that Malfoy is my partner?”

Ron frowned. “And why is that?”

“You hate him and as Auror partner, I will share more secret with him than with you,” Harry stated pointedly.

At that, Ron cackled amusedly. “How old do you think I am? Eleven? I will be more offended that you think so low of me than your partnership with him.” He stopped for second on his words, swirled his head to Ginny. “Harry’s _partnership_ with Malfoy, Gin. Is it me or it does sound like they’re having a sordid affair?"

Before Ginny could throw another innuendo on him, Harry barked, “You’re literally throwing tantrum when I told you he’s my new partner! I’ve been very careful not to mention anything about him in front of you ever since.”

Ron stopped his laugh, scratching his nape sheepishly. “Well, you know how it was for me back then. I know it’s a lame excuse but I was under massive stress so sorry if I acted like a prick. You too, Hermione.” He gave her a guilty smile, then shifted back to Harry again.

“But seriously, I barely have any contact with the git for ... 3 years? Why I waste my time to hate him, I have more important stuff to think about. And you’re the one who have to deal with him. I’m sorry mate, if my feeling prevent you to talk about him. But no worry, from now if you need a pair of ears to listen you rant about him, I’ll be there.”

To say that they were dumbstruck by his mature response was an understatement. For about four seconds, the three of them only stare at him, speechless.

Ginny beat Harry this time. “Lift your glass for my brother, he’s finally become an adult! We’re so proud of you, Ron!”

“Really, Gin?!” Ron chided. Nonetheless, the other followed Ginny’s lead, lifting their glass for a salute.

Sipping her drink, still with a wide smile adorning her face, Hermione stole a glance to Draco’s direction. He was talking with a blonde woman in a dark green dress, their barstools were rather close. The woman raised her handkerchief to cover her giggle while he looked intrigue. His patented smirk appeared and he stood, offering his hand to her.

As she watched them exiting of the pub, the woman’s hand on Draco’s elbow, Hermione smile gradually dissipated. There something in that occurrence that didn’t sit well with her. For some reason, an uneasy feeling started to lurch in her chest. It’s unsettling and really distracted her that she failed to notice that Harry also observed the pair with guarded eyes.

***

They landed in front of a small countryside house. As far as they could see, there’s no other building around, only trees and a lake on the other side. By a quick glance, it’s apparent that this place was long deserted. Nevertheless, Draco picked his wand to check the perimeter and after he’s sure that no other living being was around, he cast a ward to prevent anybody coming.

“And where is here you are bringing me, Draco?” His companion haughtily demanded, inspecting their surroundings. “Well, I hope you have at least appropriate chair inside. What with this ruse, the usual meeting should be fine.”

Draco sniggered amusedly and then followed into the house. “This is not something we can do in Ministry cupboard and I can’t take you to my house either, darling,” he drawled and got a loud irritated huff in response.

“You look nice, Theo. The dress suits you well.”

He spun around instantly. “I don’t know you swing that way, Malfoy,” he seethed through gritted teeth whipping his wand to his face menacingly.

Draco nonchalantly swiped Theo’s wand to the side and leisurely settled in one of wooden chair after a quick _Scourgify _beforehand. “Well, it’s not me who dress in a drag.”

“Don’t you dare! If this ever comes out, I’ll hunt you down, tell this to Potter too. I don’t care if he’s the Chosen One. Why Polyjuice is not enough,” Theo stated brusquely, kicking away the uncomfortable shoes.

“Because as you said not minute ago, I don’t swing that way. And sadly if you haven’t realised yet, you don’t have the right body part to be a woman, Theo _dear_,” Draco enunciated. “Unless, you want someone to trail you and catch you when you morph back.”

Theo started to show a sign of agitation. It was unbecoming for him to be easily annoyed, which meant there’s new development.

“This is getting dangerous, Draco,” he said. “What’s wrong with our usual arrangement, anyway? Is things get worse in the Ministry?”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Nott. Starting two weeks ago, thanks to Saint Potter, nobody can enter the Ministry under Polyjuice or Imperius. You might want to keep it in mind because the consequences are quite nasty and I’m sure I don’t need to iterate that you better keep it a secret as well.”

Theo growled. “They invite me to the Initiation. I don’t know Draco, but I don’t have good feeling in this,” he admitted. “I already got my inheritance, I want out.”

“Just a bit more and I personally will guarantee your protection, Theo. You have my word.”

“Can you really do that? Last I know, the Minister put you in short leash,” Theo scoffed sceptically.

“It was different back then.” He maintained his placid stance. “Where’s the Initiation?”

“They didn’t say, someone will take me there. Oh, hell no, Draco,” Theo adamantly refused, sensing where this conversation would heading to. “I escape that ugly mark! I will not deliberately taking another. I don’t know what they’ll put me through, it can be Blood Contract or even Unbreakable Vow. No, absolutely no!”

“And you think you can avoid it?” Draco countered cynically.

“I have plan. You just think of the protection you’ve promised, Malfoy. I want out, as soon as possible.”

“Fine,” he conceded for now. “What else do you have?”

“They want more, and preferably if I can get new recruit.”

“Just pretend you try. I’ll send more to your account.” He flicked his eyes to Theo, examining any change in his disposition. “Do you think it’s related?”

Theo sniggered. “I see you catch up,” he noted. “At least for Rookwood, it’s not about revenge. From what I can gather, he only wants money. He dupes the youngster into thinking that he wants revolution, but more like he only use them as his tool. Rookwood doesn’t aim an insurgent, he has bigger plan. There’s noise that he always shuts down every planned attack.”

He paused, staring at him intensely. “Crabbe is the one behind the recruitment, he’s out for blood. And you’re high on his list, that’s why nobody has approached you. Blood for blood, Draco. More than the Gryffindor trio, he put the blame of Vincent’s death mostly on you.”

Draco didn’t flinch hearing it, he’d already known that. And Crabbe Sr wasn’t wrong either, Vincent was his second collateral victim of his stupidity after Sirius Black.

Moment after the Death Eater had started attacking Hogwarts, he had a Vision. Potter had to die at the hand of Riddle, it’s the only way for the Light to win. But he’d misjudged. He had supposed to only _See_, never to _Interfere_.

However, he had already seen too many deaths. Long ago, for him death was a natural thing, inevitable. However, to _See_ it in the Tide and to _be_ in it was completely different experience, it’s not right. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible and it clouded his judgement.

He’d waited in front of the Room of Hidden Thing, he knew that for whatever reason Potter would go there. And he did. But what had happened after that was a big chaos, one soul had lost as the price.

“You saw him?”

“Yeah, he’s with Yaxley. Funny that Yaxley didn’t put him in shackle, Crabbe looks like a mad dog ready to strike,” Theo remarked drily. “If there’s anyone who’ll know what’s in Rookwood, it will be Runcorn. The two idiots arguing in my hearing distance, it seems Rockwood only wanted to get Runcorn from Azkaban, but those two forced their way to tag along.”

Draco rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “Any new name?”

“No. This is why I think Rookwood has different agenda, this recruiting follower isn’t his.”

“Easier to move with less people to control,” he surmised. “For now.”

Theo nodded in agreement.

They lapsed into silence, both fell in their own contemplation. Draco was the one who spoke first.

“I made an arrangement for you, that’s why I told you to meet me,” he told him. “You’ll be out of the country by the end of the year.”

“Summer,” Theo insisted. “They plan something on World Cup Final, Draco. I don’t know whether it’s a riot like they did eight years ago or use it as diversion for something else, but I’m not interested to find out.”

So it’s exactly like what they predicted, he noted. He didn’t relent on his demand though. “It takes time, Theo. Don’t you want to return someday? You don’t want to be a fugitive, right?”

“There’s a limit of excuse I can give them before they drag me into this mess,” Theo implored. “This is more than what I’ve bargained for. I have your word, Draco!”

Draco's fingers moved in regular pattern massaging his nose bridge, elbow on his knee. Theo’s case was different than his mother and this time, he wouldn’t have Potter’s help. The best solution was to hide him somewhere before sending him out of the country, not to mention he still had to train him as well.

“I can think of a way, but you have to fully follow my direction,” he proffered. “There’s several preparations you need to do yourself and once you’re done, I will essentially hide you from magical community. In your hideout, you can’t practice magic for awhile. Do you think you can do that?”

“You mean you will restrict my magic?” Theo asked warily.

Draco shook his head. “No. But magic can be trace, let’s not make a foolish bet.”

Again, time passed between them in silent. As a Slytherin, Draco knew that Theo would take his time to weight his options, especially since he hadn’t disclose what the plan was, so he didn’t expect him to give his answer anytime soon. Even from when they were in school, compared to Theo, Draco could be considered as brash – for a Slytherin, but never at the level of Gryffindor’s foolish brashness.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Draco didn’t try to hide his surprise at his speedy decision. He studied his behaviour, looking for any indication of hidden motive. If he had, Theo must be a good actor because he couldn’t find any, but he knew that Theo would never beat him or Blaise in faking anything so the situation must be quite dire on his view.

Meanwhile, right under his scrutiny, Theo transformed back into his real appearance. The blond hair was getting darker, his small and lithe figure gradually had visible build in some place, and the soft feature in his face hardened with sharp edge. His Polyjuice persona had a petite feminine shape that could make him pass to pose as a woman, but not with his own body.

“Potter did choose well. This appearance is ill-fitting for you.”

“Thank Merlin,” Theo said sarcastically. The dress was becoming too small for him, making him more uncomfortable. “Where do you think he get the hair anyway?”

Draco smirked. “Most likely Muggle’s.”

Theo’s face blanched in horror.

“Don’t worry. Contrary to popular belief, it won’t poison you,” Draco said offhandedly. “More so, you better get used to Muggle because you will meet many of them soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have no ill feeling towards cross-dresser. I have couple of gay friends as well as cross-dressers (as far as I know, both are straight but they wear woman’s clothes for their occupation. They’re prettier than average woman, can you believe that!). Often we have ‘regular’ guy to dress up like a woman and it’s not unusual that someone tease him playfully during a break (pure joke, no malice, no one was offended).
> 
> If you notice, both Sirius and Vincent weren’t murdered by someone in canon, Sirius fell into the Veil and Vincent was burned to death. It’s very convenient for this story, I can pin point it to Fate!  
It’s strange that Draco didn’t identify the trio when he’s technically at wand point (Bellatrix’s there) but then later when he’s away from any Death Eater, he wanted to capture Harry and handed it to Voldie. So many possibilities in between. At least this way, if Hermione ever interrogates him in the future, he’ll have a good excuse.
> 
> And shout for Hufflepuff! I’m Ravenclaw btw, but I always thought Hufflepuff really need more recognition. Badger is indeed a fierce creature. On a side note, JKR seems to have certain fascination in Mustelidae family; we have badger, otter, weasel, and ferret littering in HP universe.


	17. Unexpected

“I’m sorry Ron, but I really can’t go,” she said apologetically, it wasn’t faked at all.

Hermione might not really care about Quidditch Final, but she wouldn’t refuse any opportunity to leave London for a while and spend her weekend in a nicer weather place – she overheard some guy from Magical Sport let slip that it would be somewhere in Scotland. She didn’t share it to anyone of course, not even to Ginny and Ron (Harry might possibly know due to his position as Auror though), because she knew it’s supposed to be secret. Sadly, in one of few times she was _eager_ to go to Quidditch match, she got untimely assignment.

Ron sighed in exasperation. “You never fail to make me never regret my decision to leave the Ministry, don’t you?”

“Blame Fieldwake,” Hermione sniped from the counter table where she sat. “She’s the one who gave it at the last second.”

If only Fieldwake had sent it three days ago, she could definitely finish it before weekend. But at this rate, she would have to work on weekend – in the Ministry because there’s some documents which couldn’t be taken outside the building, more so brought it to the match.

“Is there nobody else who can do it beside you? It wasn’t even yours, right?”

“Ronan is on leave for the next two weeks,” she explained. “But this is not his fault, I know that but I know that he had made sure with Fieldwake that there’s no problem in his report. She did this intentionally, Ron. I can’t let him become victim in her vendetta.”

“What is between you and Fieldwake by the way? It’s almost three years you works in the Ministry, shouldn’t it get better between you?”

Hermione laughed sardonically. “No. For whatever reason, she’s been holding personal grudge against me. It’s worse after I outmanoeuvred her on House-Elf Bond.”

Her scheme was a huge success. At this point around 90% of House-Elf population in Britain were bonded to their respective house. It really surprised her how mouth-to-mouth gossip between socialite wives could be very effective and better campaign compared to hours she’d spent promoting House-Elf’s rights and welfare.

Bonded House-Elves would be more attuned with the house residents so they would cater on their daily necessity without being ordered. Hermione didn’t need to make up any excuse on their behaviour change because funnily enough, the first reason that came up into their Pure-blood’s mind was that they had enslaved their Elves completely – her chosen wording of the bonding oath and the Elf’s cries might had help in planting that idea. Hermione had only _tricked_ two owners and when she’d still thinking of a way to approach her third target, unknowingly the ball had rolled.

What it took was one Pure-blood wife who had gladly gloated to her fellows that she’s the first to think of the effective way to ‘enslave’ their Elf permanently and then later the other had followed quickly – which include five prominent households she’s known very well to abuse their Elves before new year arrived. By the time the revised Guidelines had been approved and distributed, more than half had already bind their Elves while the rest followed suit, after knowing that the method was deemed legal by the Ministry.

Everything had looked fine for them in the beginning, until one by one they realised that the little creatures no longer followed their every order with no compulsion to punish themselves. Their loyalty was on the house, no longer on the people lived there. Only when they thought that it was related to the wellbeing of the house, the Elves would always do it flawlessly but if not, they’d defy their (no longer) master. Yet nobody had divulged it openly, they’re too prideful to admit that they had made a huge mistake.

All of that information, she gathered it by observation. In her few earlier house visit, some had the audacity to snide at her, how it would be more difficult for her to free their ‘servant’. Hermione hadn’t needed to act surprise because she actually _did_, she hadn’t expected that it would spread this fast.

Then she noticed that later on, some started to changed their story, telling that abusing House-Elf was old fashion or that they were being generous by giving permanent housing for the creatures after they realised how good their works were – which ironically was the truth. That was how she recognised which had bind their Elves and which had realised their oversight.

Of course it wasn’t the case for all. Some had genuinely happy and willing to bind their Elves if it meant they didn’t need to deal with them for every little detail while still got the advantage of being served. Because in reality, House-Elf was a shy creature, they preferred not to be seen, and on the other hand, their lack of clothes had made their owners uncomfortable seeing them with no way to dress them better. So the Bond had been welcomed as a good solution. Just like in Hogwarts, the creature would do their job unseen and the residents could just pretend that everything happened by magic, not some creature living in their home, and even when they appeared before them, they were better dressed.

“Why doesn’t she just rescind the Regu– Guidelines?” he hastily amended when he saw Hermione opened her mouth to correct him.

Hermione scoffed maliciously. “After she gloats that it was her idea?”

It was the funniest in this whole debacle. After she saw how well the Bond was received, Fieldwake had been quick to claim that its inclusion in the Guidelines had been her idea all along. So naturally, in one way and other, she was the one who received the brunt when its _side-effect_ was revealed. Surprisingly she didn’t own House-Elf so it took her awhile for her to figure out the reason of various cold treatments she got in her circle of friends. This ‘urgent’ sudden assignment was obviously one her many way of revenge.

“And she didn’t order you to find the procedure to break it?” At Hermione’s disbelieving look, he answered it himself, “Of course, she won’t trust you with anything after this.”

“Only routine job for me, nothing related to legal. Not that I mind, I have something else that takes most of my time anyway.”

Ron shook his head in astonishment. “Since when did you become this devious, Hermione? Such underhanded tactic, it really doesn’t like you at all. No, I take it back, you did it to Edgecombe and Umbridge on our fifth year.”

“You forget Skeeter,” Hermione added. “That was one of my finest moments. You know what, I already have something ready for her if she dares to cross me next time.”

There must be something in her smirk that made Ron took two cautious steps backward and she’d like to think that he’s _not_ trying to avoid looking at her when he cast his eyes down at the ticket on his hand.

“So what am I suppose to do with this? Now I have two extra tickets.”

“Whose is the second?”

“Harry. He’ll be on duty so he won’t need it.”

Ron moved from the window sill, setting an empty box to the side among the other like he usually did after closed the shop. She reckoned she’d be very busy start tomorrow so she left early today, hoping to catch him before he left. She couldn’t find Harry at the Ministry today and Ginny was in Wales where she’d go directly to the match from there, hence Ron.

“Amy?”

This was Ron’s turn to throw her an incredulous look. “Do you really think a certain someone hasn’t given her a ticket? He even gave her three, maybe it’s for her parents because Lee knew that we already had our tickets.”

“So he confessed?” Hermione surmised.

“Nah. Coincidentally, Ginny suddenly appeared and Amy told her that Lee brought tickets for us as usual and handed _her_ one before gave the other to _me_! Of course I told her that we already bought ours and then guess what, she _apologised_ to Lee that we didn’t told him that we already had ours. Last I know, she planned to ask Hannah or Sally-Anne, you know, to be her chaperone.”

“Poor Lee,” she grimaced. “Why doesn’t he just straightforwardly ask her out?”

“How the hell would I know that? I’m the last person who can give any advice about relationship.”

“What about Fleur and Bill? They can use it as some kind of date night, your mother can take care of Victoire in the meantime,” she suggested.

Ron dumped a pack of Extendable Ears into its rack then whirled around to face her.

“Hermione, one of the reasons you can’t go is because we have to camp out for two nights. I’m sure Mum will be happy but do you think they will leave their baby for that long?” Suddenly he paused, eyes lit up as if remembering something. “Ah, I can give it to Gabrielle and her friend. Even if they don’t like Quidditch, they can enjoy the carnival.”

“Gabrielle? She’s here?”

“Yes, Bill told me that they’ll stay for two weeks.” He clapped his hands, grinning, satisfied with his solution. “Great, this way I will get more points in Fleur’s good side. Don’t tell Mum, but her apple pie is heaven!”

She chuckled, amused with her friend’s antic. “Why I’m not surprise that your brain never far from your stomach, Ronald Weasley.”

A shuffle coming from the back room caught their attention, Hermione jumped from where she sat and both quickly reached for their wand. Stunning Spell was ready at the tip of their tongues when a huge box emerged from the door, a pair of hands encircled its sides and strawberry locks visible over its top.

“Merlin! Are you witch or what? Why don’t you use your wand?!” Ron shouted.

Startled by his reprimand, Amy almost dropped the box but she managed to stop it with her knee. Her face came into view. “But this is sensitive to magic, right? I heard George told you.”

“Oh Amy, I’m sorry you have to be trapped in our sibling’s cruelty.” He strode to her and took over the box from her hold. “Why are you still here anyway? You should be home by now, right?”

She grinned contritely, glancing to the rows of shelves on her left. “I saw some shelves were empty. Tomorrow I’ll be late and I don’t want to trouble you and George so I want to make sure that all are stocked,” she reasoned.

Ron sighed. “That’s very nice of you, Amy.” He placed the box on the table, gesturing her to come closer. “Okay, listen here, I’ll tell you a secret. You see this?” He pointed to the bottom of the box. “One cross means don’t use magic, two crosses means you can use any magic on it, three means only Feather Light Charm. Don’t tell anybody, especially George, that I know about this.”

“But you always carry it by hand,” she disputed him.

“I’ve been using Feather Light Charm without his knowledge because if he knows that I know, he will change his coding or put something else on it just to make me carry it by hand,” Ron explained. “This is his way to make me suffer, so please don’t let him know and use your discretion when you do it, okay.”

She looked at him, considering, then she nodded. Between Ron and George, it’s easy to decide who you could trust, a lesson that she must have learnt during her employment in this shop – though since it’s Amy, it’s highly improbable that George would ever pulled a prank on her.

“Thank you.” She smiled widely. She pointed to the scribes on the box “This has two crosses so is it means I can even use magic to send it to its respective shelves?” she clarified.

“Yes, you can,” Ron confirmed. “But leave it to me. I don’t want your father to come here searching for you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Really, it’s okay,” he insisted. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to Hermione’s direction. “Hermione’s here, she can help me.”

Amy looked at Hermione questioningly which then was answered by a firm nod.

“Thank you, Hermione.” She untied her apron and folded it neatly in her arms. “See you tomorrow.”

Both returned her goodbye and just stood watching her retreating form for awhile, only moved when they heard a whoops sound from the fireplace.

“I don’t appreciate you volunteering me for extra work this late hour, Ronald,” Hermione remarked drily, arms crossed on her chest.

Ron waved his wand, opening the box and sending the contents into its designated shelves. “It’s not volunteer, it will be your apology for ditching me despite the hardship I went through to book your ticket.”

Her wand firmly clutched in her hand, but she didn’t move it. “How bad did you singe your hair to crack the code?” she asked, half curious half teasing.

“Do you forget that I was an Auror?” he quipped. “I was trained to solve more complex problem than this without endangering my life. Compared to Jonas, George is a toddler.”

***

It was late at night – maybe even past midnight – and here she was, bleary eyes and stiff neck on one of table in the Ministry library. She only had one more form to be crossed check with the Registry, so she’d chosen to just finish everything in one go than went home and returned here again in the morning, but it had more than one hundred entries and she had to do it manually – the Registry was magically protected and she had no credential for it.

Well, at least Fieldwake had not lied when she said that there was discrepancy in Ronan’s report – so far she’d found six – because if she did, she would certainly burn her desk come next Monday. But that wasn’t her method, she wouldn’t make it easy. Instead, Fieldwake just dumped the whole report to her without mentioning what or where the discrepancies were. The report was ten feet long, not including bunch of enclosure. This was war and Hermione would never back down.

She stretched her body, massaging her neck. She had fell asleep for a time awhile ago, but short nap turned out to be good for her because her mind was clearer after. She needed coffee, but of course food and drink were prohibited here and unlike Hogwarts library, there’s no way she could smuggle it. The enchantment was stronger than Madam Pince’s and was continuously renewed over time, that’s why despite no librarian in attendance around, there’s no worry of missing collection. And for the same reason, unlike the Third Section, the Second and First Section were open anytime for whoever with the pass.

Around two hours and one misspelt name corrected later, she’d finally done. She exited the library with piles of parchment and file in her arms, straight to lift. Just her luck that it had to be the day she left her bracelet at home.

In her sleepy stance she collided with a hard body, causing her to fall on her bump and her belonging scattered around her. It’s Hansen from Obliviator Headquarter. They had worked together once, two years ago during Year End Pixie Fiasco in Durham.

“Sorry, Hansen. Last minute report and lack of sleep,” she apologised, scooping the nearest parchments into her arm.

Hansen only gave her slight nod in acknowledgement while reached his dropped bag, it’s easier for him as most of its contents were only halfway out in one pile. Being an Obliviator, Hermione didn’t really surprise to see him still in the office at this hour on weekend, his overtime work must have worse than her.

A ‘ding’ sound signalled that the lift’s door was closing. Didn’t want to miss this lift and wasting time to wait for the next, she summoned the rest of her belonging using her wand and jumped inside, right in time before the door closed that she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to him.

After retrieving her bag from her desk, she made a short trip to the break room and drank two cups of coffee to make sure she would be able to Apparate home. All the way to her flat, she cursed why she thought it was a good idea to have Anti-Apparition Charm around her flat that she needed to _walk_ instead of landed directly inside her bedroom.

The combination of coffee and the walk, added with hunger – she hadn’t eaten anything since a slice of toast for breakfast day before – had reduced her sleepiness considerably. Fortunately, there’s still some meatloaf in the fridge so no need to cook, only had to reheat it in microwave while she made a cup of cocoa milk which usually help her sleep better.

It’s Sunday, she could sleep the whole day if she wanted. And the last thing that popped up in her mind when her face touched her pillow was that she hoped all of this would worth it.

***

It _was_ definitely worth it.

She waited in front of her office the first thing in the morning so when Fieldwake arrived, she had no choice but to let her in. She didn’t offer her to have a seat though, but Hermione didn’t really care, she wouldn’t stay long there anyway.

So without too much ceremony, Hermione handed the revised report and politely thanked her for _saving_ her from watching the Quidditch match, telling her how she didn’t cared much about the vicious game and never enjoyed it when her friends took her to one. But with the assignment, she had valid reason to decline their invitation.

Seeing her barely suppressed rage, Hermione reckoned that it would be very unwise if she showed any indication of satisfaction. Taunting her like that would only make her more unbearable, sadly this was not the last time she would need to work with her. So using house visit as her excuse (which was actually true), Hermione coolly bid her goodbye.

The house visit took longer than usual since it was in Boldburry’s, Mr Boldburry was the first Pure-blood she’d tricked to bind their Elves into the house. It appeared that he finally realised her deception, that’s why he’s intentionally being difficult during the inspection. For once Hermione considered to do what her colleagues usually did, copying the previous report, there should be no significant change from her last visit anyway.

In the end, she got what she needed, but it was close to lunch time when she’s done. Deciding that she deserved a celebration, she made a stop at Flourish & Blotts. There’s nothing wrong with pampering herself with two or three books, it’s been two months since the last time she bought new book after all.

The last book was a hard decision. She already had four books on her hand, but the book was the last on the shelves and if she didn’t take it, she had to wait for months for another copy. However, sacrificing any book she’d picked wasn’t an option as well. This predicament was a recurring occurrence _every single time_ she’s book shopping which _always_ end with the same outcome; she’d cave.

Her excuse this time was that her lunch break was almost over and _one more_ extra book wouldn’t hurt. At this rate, she might have to throw away some of her clothes to make more space for her book. The seatback of living in Muggle flat was she couldn’t magic _extra_ space on her wardrobe for her books – all shelves were full already.

Too busy convincing herself that she made right decision, she didn’t see someone coming past the shelves and they almost bumped into another at the end of the aisle.

“Hermione?”

She blinked. “Viktor!”

She knew that the Final match was between Egypt and Bulgaria, which of course he had played Seeker, but to see him here was still surprising.

The question of how’s he doing was the first to come up in her mind but she managed to stop from voicing it, she might sound to be insensitive. Ginny had regaled her how Egypt won the match, that Rawya Zaghloul narrowly beat him when the score was 300 for both teams. Britain soil seemed to bring bad luck for him.

So instead, she chose a very obvious question. “Are you looking for a book?” This was so lame, they were in a bookshop, so what else he’d been doing then.

“To be honest, I’m hiding, Hermione.”

This was similar to their first encounter at Hogwarts. “Your fans are very persistent, I see.” Showing her books, she added, “And like before, you’ll find me with books in my arm.”

He chuckled, only for a second, but his feature was less stern than before. “How are you, Hermione?”

“I’m working in the Ministry, dealing with House-Elf.” She tugged a loosen curl behind her ear to buy time. In polite conversation, this was her turn to return the question. She was saved from blurting another lame question as Viktor spoke again.

“So ..., are you on your way to visit your boyfriend, Hermione? I saw he works at one of the shop around here.”

The way he said it reminded her to when he’d asked her to the Ball, awkward and ungainly. It took her a bit longer than usual to grasp his insinuation.

“You mean Ron? No, he’s not my boyfriend,” she brushed it off, it was an old news. Even when Skeeter still on rampage with her articles, it was now relegated to a small corner in the gossip column of Witch Weekly.

The smile was back on his face, this time there was even glint in his eyes. And she finally realised it.

“You can say my name correctly.” He did say her name in his every sentences, she wonder whether it was intentional so she would notice. “And you’re English is better too,” she noted.

She could swear that he grinned, it was just for a short moment but enough to stun her.

“The past two years I play in America,” he mentioned to her. That would explained it. The fact that he practised to pronounce her name correctly flattered her too.

They had been pen pals for quite long time, it would be nice if they could converse, but sadly she already had an engagement this afternoon.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I don’t mean to be rude but my break is almost over, I need to go back to the Ministry,” she said apologetically.

“Oh, sure.” He nodded. “Er, Hermione?”

Hermione stopped her movement, looking at him in confusion and waited.

He sputtered. “Would you ... Can we meet for coffee or tea sometime, to catch up? I’ll be in London for awhile.”

“Of course,” she quickly consented. Actually she also thought of inviting him, but she didn’t want to assume that he’d be in England for long, the match was over after all. “Oh, I promised you that I’ll take you to Muggle London once, right? We really have to do it. Owl me when you want to meet, I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

He was in high spirit when they parted and she couldn’t help to smile even until she arrived at her desk.

She only needed her note, but she ended up taking out everything from inside her drawer onto the desk. Too tired and in hurry, she just dumped all her notes into it yesterday. It wasn’t her style to be untidy so while looking for her calculation for the Isolation Magic, she could rearrange it as well, there’s still some time before her appointment with Nigel and Martin.

As she sorting it, she found a piece of yellowish paper with a sketch of something like gate made of an elaborate stone structure. It looked familiar, she’d seen it somewhere, tough she’s sure this paper wasn’t hers. Then she recalled the incident in front of the lift, she must have accidentally took it from Hansen.

Thinking that she could make short visit to Level 3 after meeting Martin and Nigel, she put the paper into her bag along with her notes. Sure she could just send it, but she wanted to make sure that he received it in case it’s important – she had this strong feeling that it was.

Coincidentally, as she passed the oak doors lead to Auror Headquarter, she saw him talking with Harry so she headed to them.

Harry noticed her first, stopped whatever conversation he had with Hansen and greeted her. “Oh hey, Hermione. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I’m actually here for Martin.”

He frowned. “You didn’t know? He’s in St Mungo’s, Dragon Pox.”

“Really? Poor him,” she lamented, their project would face another seatback then. Remembering her reason to approach them, she took the paper with the sketch of stone gate from her bag and proffered it to Hansen. “Here, I think this is yours. I accidentally took it with me.”

Hansen stared at the paper then moved to her face with a puzzled look. “Pardon?”

“Yesterday,” she started to explain. “When we collided in front of the lift. I think this mixed into mine and I accidentally took it with me.”

Hansen still looked confuse, but Harry’s expression quickly turned into alarm. Hermione opened her mouth, intending to jog his memory since he must be more exhausted than her that night to not remember it, but Harry jumped in.

“Wait, you mean you saw him here in the Ministry yesterday?” he asked, harsher than he normally did.

Taken aback by his tone, Hermione gave a cautious confirmation. She could sense that something wrong must have happened the way his eyes widen and the alert look he had.

“Hansen, I know you’ve been relieved, but can you not going home for now. Take a rest at the break room if you want, I know last yesterday is crazy but I will need you later,” he instructed in rapid succession. “And Hermione, you come with me.”

It’s clear from his urgency that this was serious so although both were a bit peeved with the way he ordered them, they conformed.

“Harry, what–?”

“Not here,” he cut her. He gestured her to follow him, but stopped instantly as he saw Draco coming. Whatever question he had, Draco answered him with a head shake before it was voiced. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Is Robards in?”

“No. Maybe still arguing with Croaker somewhere,” Draco responded flatly, but there was an edge in his voice as well, though it was better disguised than Harry’s.

Harry nodded. “Interrogation Room then,” he said, then strode passing him, followed by Hermione, but only for two steps because Draco snatched his arm, stopping him.

“What she’s doing here, Potter?” he hissed.

“She’s our witness.”

That seemed to be the only answered he’d give, Draco shifted his glare to her, demanding an explanation. However she was as clueless as him, probably more, so he only got a confused frown from her in return before she trailed her Auror friend.

“Okay, now can you tell me what’s going on?” she demanded impatiently once she’s seated on one chair in that empty plain room. Harry sat on the other side of the table while Draco stood, glowering.

“You’re here in capacity as witness so I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything, Hermione.” The short walk between his cubicle and this room had given Harry ample time to regain his composure, his voice was steady and stoic. “Your statement will be used in our investigation, so please answer in detail and as clear as possible.”

From his intonation, she understood that he meant business – this wasn’t between friends – and she would cooperate.

“So, can you elaborate the circumstance you’ve mentioned earlier with Hansen, when and what’s exactly happened.”

Hermione inhaled deeply, a complete story would take awhile. “I got a prompt assignment from Loretta Fieldwake which required me to work overtime on weekend if I want to finish it on time,” she began.

“Some references I needed can only be read on spot so I was in the Ministry library, in Second Section to be exact, from Saturday morning until Monday early morning. It would be 17th August but you have to check the logbook if you want the precise time of my arrival and leaving because I was too tired to care what time it was.”

“You were in the library from morning to morning _the next day_?” Harry remarked incredulously.

Hermione huffed, crossing her hands in defensive stance. “Yes, Harry. I wanted to finish it at once and I overslept somewhere in between,” she retorted sharply. Even she could tell that Draco suppressed his snigger. What happened with professionalism?!

Harry cleared his throat to control his chuckle. “Sorry, my bad,” he said repentantly. “So, about what you said to Hansen earlier?”

“I bumped into him in front of the lift, I was too sleep deprived that I didn’t pay attention when he exited the lift as I walked straight to it.”

She noticed that Draco straighten his back on her last statement, his jaw went rigid. This was getting suspicious, something must have happened that night and Hansen was related in some ways.

“Are you sure? You said you’re very tired and very sleep deprive. Maybe you mistook him for someone else.”

“No, Harry. We literally collided. I had a stack of documents and it scattered on the floor. There was at least one minute I was with him when I gathered it manually before I used my wand so I had plenty of time to see whether it was him or not,” she insisted ardently.

“It’s impossible. You said it works, Potter,” Draco bristled accusingly.

“It _does_, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “You were there when I checked it.”

“Harry?” Hermione queried apprehensively.

He let out a loud sigh before he answered, his sound was grave. “Hansen was on duty during Quidditch World Cup. To prevent the similar riot like eight years ago, enchantment was placed around the area so nobody could come or go using any means possible from Friday night until Monday morning, except by using emergency Portkey that could only be accessed by Auror and none was activated. Besides, Hansen was with me around the time you supposed to bump into him.”

Her breath caught as the realisation shank in. “You mean to tell me that someone has broken into the Ministry as Hansen. Likely using _Polyjuice_?” she stated. “It’s impossible, Harry!” she echoed Draco’s earlier sentiment. “We tested it with every kind of shield and Charm. I even checked the Fountain this morning and it works fine.”

“I did it too, Hermione. But that’s the only conclusion since Hansen was definitely at Wales around the time you’ve mentioned,” Harry asserted firmly.

Before Hermione could refute, Draco interjected, “Granger, you said you were from the library when you bumped him, right?”

“Yes, I ... ” She looked at Draco in horror. “The Balcony!

It’s not clear who moved first but the next second, Hermione and Draco exited the room running. Hermione was heading to the lift but when she saw Draco turned to the door leading to the stair, she changed direction. It’s hard to race with Draco’s long legs, she clearly needed to restarted her weekend exercise again. Once arrived in front of the store room, Draco didn’t waste time to do the sequence of the door opening.

“What are–?” Harry finally caught up with them, ready to bombard them with questions, but stopped shortly when the door opened, showing ascending stairs instead of a room full of stationeries. “Bloody hell!”

The other two paid no mind of his reaction, Draco climbed the stair with Hermione right behind him. If Harry was surprised with the stairs, he was in to bigger one when he reached upstairs. And he did.

His loud gasp was predictable. “Okay, can any of you please explain what – where are we?” he demanded, wringing his hand to the buildings around them.

However, once again, he was ignored.

“Do you think it’s possible?” she directed the question to Draco.

“Only one way to know.” And he Disapparated.

Knowing that her friend was quickly losing his patience, Hermione swirled around to face him, sighing. Sure enough, his glare was accusing and his lips had already formed a thin line.

“Harry, we are on the rooftop of Banqueting Hall, Whitehall – London,” she started. “This place is called the Balcony and is connected to our Ministry down below by that stair. You can only access it if you open the door in specific sequence, other than that it will only lead you to the store room.”

“And how you and Malfoy know about this?”

“It’s in the Ministry’s blueprint, Potter.” A lazy drawl answered, a moment after a faint ‘pop’ sound.

Draco’s return proved their suspicion.

“Right,” he sniped scathingly. “And do people know about this place except me?”

“I don’t think it’s public knowledge, Harry. Very few will be interested to read an old book regaling the history of Ministry of Magic Building. As far as I know, several times I was here, there’s nobody around.”

She avoided glancing at Draco. Technically she didn’t lie. This past 4 weeks alone, Draco had not been here when she came. It was not the right time to reveal her secret rendezvous to her best friend anyway, they had more important matter on hand.

“We can try to detect his Trace, there should be some residual magic left since whoever he is, he Disapparated from here,” she suggested, stirring the conversation back on track.

Concentrating on common simple spell had brought significant progress on their project, Apparition had been one of their earlier focus. Currently they were working on general solution, but the basic one was ready to be implemented for real case. In fact, if it’s approved, they planned to train it to Law Enforcement personnel, particularly Investigator.

Harry perked up. “Can you do it?”

“Potter!”

“Martin is sick, Nigel is away, she’s the only one who knows how to perform it. I’ll take full responsibility,” Harry barked heatedly, glaring at his partner.

“I promise I won’t speak about this to anybody and you don’t need to tell me anything, I’m not going to be privy.”

Considering that it was Harry and Draco – both were Auror – who handled this and the fact that nobody seemed to be aware of the break-in, Hermione guessed that this was classified. She wouldn’t deny that she was curious yet she wasn’t part of DMLE, she knew her boundary.

His scowl was a good indication that Draco didn’t agree, with a noticeable scorn he backed off.

“I will need something for comparison, if you can get anything,” she stated. “I've been here and have performed magic in this place before, there might be somebody else who did it too.”

Draco shifted from where he stood, but Harry stopped him. “You stay here, Malfoy. I don’t think Croaker will like to see you down there.”

He moved aside from the door, giving way to Harry. But instead of returning to his initial position blocking the door, he sauntered to his usual bench.

For the first time since they started meeting in this place, the air between them was stiff. Or maybe it’s only Hermione who felt that because Draco sure looked relax sitting there. Perhaps it was the setting, that although they were alone, this was in work capacity, not some stolen solitude they usually did. So even if he was the same person and this was the same place, she had no idea how to conduct herself. Though if she ended up make fool of herself, this wouldn’t be her first _faux pas_ in front of him.

Eventually, she decided the best bet was to just do what she was asked to do here. Hermione started waving her wand to narrow down her search, murmuring the spell to detect the magical residue so she’d know where she needed to concentrate her observation, intentionally avoiding _his_ bench.

“You haven’t told Potter,” Draco remarked, breaking the silence. He didn’t specify on what it exactly but Hermione knew what he meant.

Still with her back on him, she replied, “You’ve sworn me to secrecy, remember?”

She only heard his scoff, but she knew it would be followed by a sarcastic smirk of his.

“You’re lucky you weren’t napping here, Granger.”

His tone was softer than in his first sentence, so she added some levity in her response as well. “Or maybe if I was here, I wouldn’t need to this because he would have been in custody already, thanks to my quick reaction.”

Nevertheless, the side effect for that scenario remained the same, this place would no longer become their secret. This place will be known, more people would come to be investigated. She couldn’t come to this place to hide or to get an uninterrupted nap. So do Draco.

“Seems like we will need to find new safe haven. That if you still need it,” she expressed her thought. Finally she turned around, offering him a smile. “I’m happy to see you socialising again, Draco. Living like a hermit didn’t suit you. Maybe you can start dating next.” She said it genuinely, though she had no idea what made her said the last part.

Draco smirked, reclining comfortably. “I don’t date, Granger,” he said drily.

Hermione scoffed, “Said the man who had Pansy Parkinson clinging on his arm for years.”

“Is that what you call dating?”

“You went to Yule Ball with her and everyone who had eyes could see that she’s never far from you after that,” she retorted snidely.

He shrugged. “Well, she’s offering and I would look stupid go to alone. Why she’s following me around after that is not my problem.”

Her jaw dropped, frown etched on her forehead. She couldn’t believe how easy he said it, full of arrogance and unrepentant, like it was such an obvious reason she should know without asking.

“You’re despicable!” she scolded him with her most stern voice which could make Ron dropped on his knees, prostrating. “Is that the case for all women you’ve been parading around as well?”

But Draco wasn’t Ron, her tone could only manage to make him raise an eyebrow. “What women?”

“It was on papers, with pictures! You were always seen with different woman these past months.”

Surprisingly, her further accusation only made him more amused. “Oh, so does it mean that Potter and Weasel are indeed your boy toys? Who is next in your collection, then? Longbottom? I’m amazed that you read that rubbish, Granger.” He shook his head with mock disdain.

Hermione clammed her mouth shut. How could he spin this conversation into a gossip about her?! Fortunately her memory swiftly provided her necessary comeback.

“Now that you mention it, I know it’s you who fed Skeeter that rubbish back then, Draco. I found out that she’s Animagus, and I put her _in a jar_ for months for what she did,” she expounded sweetly. “If my memory serves me right, I haven’t taken any retribution from you, Draco.”

He blinked, intrigued. “For what, Granger? I only told her that you never left Potter’s side. Everyone who had eyes could see that you’re never far from him.”

How she hated the way he threw back her words at her like that. And he wasn’t done yet.

“It’s out of my power what she wrote about that,” he added matter-of-factly.

“You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met, Draco Malfoy!”

“I’m honoured, Granger.” He even had the audacity to bow.

Although she had a very strong urge to strangle him or maybe just chopped his head just to remove that annoying smirk from his face faster, but when she turned her back, the corner of her lips twitched. She didn’t know why, but her chest felt lighter and there’s a warm feeling on her stomach.


	18. Sketch

Hermione kept her promise not to pry even though with the fact that she was directly involved naturally made her more curious. They were adult, no longer in school, with their own career. Really, she didn’t want to know all the details or even to meddle on something that wasn’t her job to begin with. Or at least that’s how she kept reminding herself.

Still, knowing what had actually happened surely wouldn’t hurt. From what she had observed from the way Harry interacted with Draco, she gathered that someone who’s not Ministry employee had broken in and had taken something. Yes, it must be theft, not murder. A discovery of dead body would surely bring bigger ruckus or at least there would be some whispered noise.

On the other hand, more than not knowing the answer of a question, not knowing whether her answer was right or wrong had always ticked her. But to ask Harry if her supposition was true certainly could be categorised as prying which she’d promised him she’d not do. She was even half hoping that Harry would reach her, asked her for some help like what he did with the Fountain.

She tried to use the sketch she thought belong to Hansen to fish some information but was dismissed after they couldn’t find any magical trace on it. Since she couldn’t prove that she’d gotten it during the collision and it looked more like some sketch from a children story book, Harry suspected it was Ronan’s whose desk was next to her and who indeed had kids. And even though later on Ronan denied that it was his, Harry still thought that it meant nothing important for them.

Sadly, other than the one at the Balcony three weeks ago, he hadn’t approached her for anything, not even to summon her for another witness account. Furthermore, she hadn’t seen him for the last two weeks as he was away for a mission somewhere. Although that was not the reason of Ginny’s bad mood.

It was Saturday and Hermione woke up with massive headache from another late night overtime. Of course she could continue sleep in as long as she wanted, but it was already past noon and she’s hungry so she dragged her body to the kitchen. The rain that soaked her drench last night had already stopped, leaving a comfortable chilly breeze on its wake. She remembered she still had a can of soup and a warm soup sounded like a good idea.

She was on her second spoon of soup when Ginny stormed in and without ceremony, grabbed her tea and finished it in one gulp.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” she bristled, slamming the cup onto the table.

Hermione didn’t comment, only observed and waited for Ginny to continue her upcoming rant. Ginny always stopped by at her childhood home after her Saturday training session for a relaxing flight and mostly to raid her mother’s food. So whatever that made her this work up must had happened at the Burrow, the lack of food container on her hand corroborate her conjecture.

“Fleur is pregnant.”

“It’s good news, right?” she said tentatively.

Ginny sighed loudly, slumming on the chair on her left. “But she’s not the only one.”

That statement stunned her, her eyes widened as she connected the dots and her lips trembling as she squeaked, “Y-you-your mum ...,”

“No!” Ginny yelped, flabbergasted. “That’s not even funny, Hermione! I’m twenty one and I have more than enough siblings. I will castrate Dad myself if that ever happen,” she stated vehemently. “It’s Angelina.”

Hermione let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, though she couldn’t be blamed for jumping to the wrong conclusion. As her flatmate, she would know if Ginny’s pregnant and putting her aside, the only woman in Weasley family left was the matriarch.

“Is the baby ...,” she trailed off, unsure how to articulate it.

“George’s? Yes. And Mum was furious because they don’t plan to marry,” Ginny said straight to the problem on hand. “But that’s not all. For some reason, he thinks it’s a good idea to tell Mum that she’ll move into the flat above the joke shop. As in living together and raising their child out of wedlock in the middle of Diagon Alley.

“I don’t know when he lost his sense that he’d ever think that Mum will let it slide, even Dad was upset. This is my Dad – the pacific Arthur Weasley – we’re talking about here. Mum’s tirade is legendary, but never in million years I’ve ever thought that Dad’s cold voice would be scarier. If only this was a prank, it would be George’s greatest achievement to date.”

She was panting when she finished as if she said all of that sentences in one breath. Carefully, Hermione reached a glass, filled it with water, and pushed it to her friend.

“But if she asked Angelina to live with him, it show that he takes responsibility, right?” she opined. “It’s normal in Muggle to live together like that and I also know there are several children with unmarried parent at Hogwarts so it’s not really uncommon, right?”

Ginny stared at her in disbelief. “Have you met my mother? And this is my parents we’re talking about, Hermione. Family is everything for them, so is marriage. It may sound old fashion, but that’s their value.”

They shared a look before Ginny stood up and started rummaging the fridge for something to eat while muttering that not only her morning was suck, but she also hadn’t even gotten any food from her mother.

“How’s Angelina?” Hermione broke the silence.

“From what George told us, it seems she wants the baby too but she’s not thinking of marriage yet. You know, it won’t be too far off if Mum will _beg_ her to marry George at some point.”

She took a slice of bread and started making sandwich.

“When I told you about that ‘friends with benefit’ stuff, I didn’t mean that they’re intimate. I know they’re close, but they’re definitely not shagging,” she confessed. “Apparently Angelina lost her job sometime after New Year then she had big row with her mother. On the other hand, you know how George when it’s close to his birthday. So both of them were comforting each other, one drunken night and it continued from there.”

Hermione poured tea to her empty cup and sipped it thoughtfully. Of all the things that Ginny said, she still couldn’t grasp what had made her agitated. For one, according to the Weasley sibling’s code of conduct, they respected each other life and wouldn’t interfere unless it was very necessary. And especially in this circumstance, she knew that Ginny didn’t have any problem with all things between George and Angelina. It confused her and she voiced it to her red-haired friend.

“Your assessment is right. They’re adult, they can decide what they want in their life,” she concurred. “What bothers me is how it affects me. I should have known that there’s something wrong when I saw Ron and Percy there, and then leave before it’s too late. Because what we always have is _Sunday_ brunch, not _Saturday_ brunch!

“When it’s Dad’s turn to lecture George, Mum moved to us. By us I mean me, Ron, and _Percy_ – my, you should see his face! We’re over twenty and we got ‘the bird and the bee’ talk from our Mum, how horrifying is that! She even grilled us whether we’re still virgin or not. I’m so glad that Harry wasn’t there, imagine Mum telling him about _honouring my virtue_ or something. The only reason Charlie was not summoned is because the only thing Mum needs to worry about him is for him impregnating a dragon which is close to impossible.”

At the last second Hermione stopped herself from laughing on the image of Charlie and his baby dragon, she switched to the other topic instead. “Is it possible for your mum to know whether you’re virgin or not?”

Ginny snorted deprecatingly. “Oh, it’s possible and she did. You’re Muggle-born so it’s understandable if you never heard about it. You know that Unicorn prefer virgin, right? How do you think it can distinguish between one or not. It’s in our magic, Hermione. Back in old days, virgin was valued highly for marriage prospect and it’s very common to check it before they reach an understanding. Some parents even put some sort of chastity spell around their child since they’re young.”

“Seriously?!”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, unlike in Muggle world where that standard only applied to woman, it was enforced to both witch and wizard.” She returned to her chair with a plate of sandwich. “Even Muggle said that sex is magical, right? Because literally it is, or at least that what’s most parents told their kids.

“Some couple did magical bonding for their marriage but essentially the bonding happens during consummation, not during the wedding ceremony,” she continued. “So to put it bluntly, basically what you need is to have sex and you’d be considered bonded by your magic, the ceremony is just for formality. And it’s important because it’s said to affect the family magic. When both are virgins, their magic is whole and untainted, so their family magic will be stronger and intact. It’s sealed when an heir is born, that’s why if there’s any affair it will be after it. Sleeping around means you break one bond after another and more or less it will affect your own magic.

“But pregnancy prevention in wizarding world is not without problem. Yes, there’s _the_ spell, but remember Lockhart’s fiasco? Sure, we can re-grow bones, but I never heard anyone re-growing womb. Even if he’s trained Healer, I would never let anyone to point his wand to my womb especially in his addled lust-muddled brain state. Hell, I won’t even trust myself to cast any spell properly. The least that could happen will be I accidentally make myself barren, the worst I’ll end up in pieces.

“The safer option is potion, but mind you, it’s very potent. Magic makes us more resilient from illness than Muggle, it also applies to fetus. So logically our potion should be more potent than Muggle one, but it is known that certain dose can cause infertility. In conclusion, since I still want to have kids in the future, I choose the route of celibacy.” She closed her speech by plopping the last bite of the sandwich into her mouth.

Hermione raised her brows. This topic did attract her interest and she wanted to have further discussion, but for now there’s other thing that made her more curious.

“You sure are very knowledgeable about this, aren’t you,” she remarked teasingly.

Ginny scoffed smugly. “I play in all women Quidditch team, Hermione. Pregnancy will literally end our career so it’s important to know our options and this knowledge is generously shared between sisters.”

“But this whole stuff about magical bond, is it true or it’s just a myth to prevent teenage kids from sleeping around?” This was an honest question.

She contemplated it for a moment. “I don’t know, but that’s all what Mum told me before I went to Hogwarts. You’re the one who love researching so maybe you want to put it on your reading list. Not many really believe it nowadays anyway but honestly, I kind of like the concept. I’m not talking about marrying a virgin or _saving _yourself for your husband but to merge your magic with one person and to treasure that bond for your whole life, to be with your one and only. And I’m a selfish person so I want to be his _only_ too.”

“Is that how you feel about Harry?”

“Does it sound creepy if I tell you that he’s the one in my mind when Mum gave me that talk?” She smiled reminiscently. Turning her gaze to Hermione, she said, “Please don’t start your lecture about projecting my fantasy, just like you told me years ago I did try to date other. Michael was partly curiosity but I did like Dean, or as serious as it could be for a 15 years old teenager. Yet I still end up with Harry so I say it’s a sign that we’re really meant to be.”

Hermione observed how her expression turned softer, grinning dreamily and eyes on her tea but not really seeing it. She couldn’t help not to mirror her smile.

“Yes, I think you are,” she whispered.

Ginny looked up at her and suddenly Hermione could feel dread in her stomach, something bad was coming as her smile turned into glee.

She rubbed her palm, calculating. “And we need to find a good man for you too. You’re coming tonight, right?”

The last sentence sounded eerily like a threat but she still tried to get away. “I’m not feeling well, Gin. Maybe I’m catching a cold because of rain last night.” And just to make it more convincing, she coughed.

Without a word, Ginny went to her room and returned with a maroon vial on her hand, thrusting it to her. “Drink this and you’ll be fine,” she ordered her.

Hermione groaned, of course Ginny had her own stock. Even if she could come out with another excuse, she would just shove the potion down her throat if she declined. Lately Ginny had been pestering her to start dating, all her arguments on how dating was not in her priority or that she didn’t even have time for it only fell on deaf ears.

“Oh come on, you’ll make Amy happy. You’ve never been in our girls night, Hermione!” she whined.

“Stop using Amy to blackmail me. I know you just want to shove me to any man you can find.”

“Hermione, that’s the point of girls night, to ogle men freely,” she reasoned. “Besides, Hannah and Luna cancelled, we need the fourth person so nobody will feel left in conversation because Louisa will join us.”

“Louisa? Who?”

“Gabriele’s friend. Ron didn’t tell you about her?”

“I thought Gabriele has returned to France already.”

“But her friend stays, she’s looking for a job in London now. I don’t know what the deal between Fleur and Ron, but he becomes some sort of her escort.” Hermione mumbled ‘apple pie’ under her breath but made dismissive gesture with her hand when Ginny eyed her questioningly. “Anyway, Ron drags me and Amy into whatever it is so now you will help us to make her feel welcome.”

The fact that Ron could force Ginny to do anything was unfathomable and as for Amy, it’s more likely that she would offer _before_ Ron even thought of asking her help. Nevertheless, Hermione reckoned that dissuading Ginny was a futile attempt, she might as well give in to minimise the potential damage. And that’s how she ended up sitting with the three girls in their usual secluded corner at Leaky Cauldron.

Amy was already there when Hermione and Ginny arrived at Leaky, she was chatting amicably with a blonde-haired girl she’d never seen before. When she saw them coming, the former Hufflepuff played host and did the introduction. The girl was Louisa Ginny had mentioned before.

Louisa was one year above Gabriele at Beauxbaton but they knew each other since they were toddler as their mothers were best friend. Her father was British – which explained the lack of accent in her English, she spoke two languages at home – who left to France during Voldemort first rising. He planned to move back to Britain and her mission was to see its feasibility.

“Your parents are Muggles right, Hermione?” she queried chirpy. In fact, this is the first time that kind of question was directed to her with no wonder or malice, so the puzzlement still lingered when she nodded in response. “Can you accompany me to Muggle London? Especially your queen’s palace, I always want to go there, we don’t have it anymore in France.”

“Sure,” Hermione told her, still hesitant with her enthusiasm. “When?”

“What about tomorrow? Are you free?”

Hermione thought for a moment for her answer. “I don’t think it’s a good time for outdoor trip, the forecast states downpour for the next two days. Next Saturday, the weather should be better by then.”

“_Super_!” Louisa said in affirmation.

“Can I join you?” Amy spoke up, looking at the two of them with hopeful eyes. “I never go to Muggle world, Daddy never let me. But if I’m with you Hermione, I’m sure Daddy will agree.”

“Okay, it settled then. The four of us will go for a Muggle trip next Saturday. We’ll meet here at 9 am and pass to Muggle side from here.” Without asking first, Ginny butted in and made decision for them. But this was Ginny and even Louisa didn’t seemed to mind.

Louisa sipped her Butterbeer slowly. “I’ve heard a lot about the segregation between Muggle and wizardkinds also about blood status in Britain, but I never expect it to be this bad until I went flat-hunting with Ronald. You British are very ... _funny_, you know.”

“What you mean?” Ginny scowled, her eyes narrowed. Hermione straighten her back, ready to defend her homeland.

“Considering that what makes Britain has the largest magical population in Europe was because during the Dark Age of Witch Hunt, many fled to Britain since British Muggle was more tolerant than in the continent. And look how it goes now,” she started her argument. “Although we also adhere to the same Statue of Secrecy in France, but nobody has any problem to mingle or venture into Muggle community. Relationship between witch or wizard with Muggle is not odd. But look at what you guys doing here, making a big deal about magical parentage.

“And I’ve heard about what British paper wrote about our Headmistress. So what if one of her parent was Giant? Students at Beauxbaton know but never we make a fuss about it. She’s a very capable and extraordinary witch, that’s what important.”

At that point, Hermione decided that she liked this witch. But Louisa hadn’t finished yet.

“Isn’t it ironic how they running to the most tolerant Muggle community only to end up taking completely different turn to be the most prejudice magical community in Europe? I wonder what had happened in between, whether there’s any missing link or magical British merely doesn’t get history lesson,” she concluded.

“Of course we have,” Hermione replied, quicker than Ginny, “but we learnt about Goblin Wars instead. Perhaps that’s why our Muggle Studies still stuck in 14th century culture.” She sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Ginny shut her mouth, shifting her gaze to her plate and fiddling with her chips instead. Conversely, Amy had paid full attention to Hermione and Louisa, looking curious and clearly interested with their conversation.

“You’re serious?” she asked in disbelief and got a wry snort in answer. “No wonder that some thought that Muggle is inferior. Considering that they don’t have magic in them, they are more advance than us. Lucky me I wasn’t sent to Hogwarts then. It had always been my parents biggest argument, you know, Hogwarts and Beauxbaton. Thankfully _Maman_ won.”

Hermione hummed. “And what did they teach about History in Beauxbaton?”

After that their conversation went swimmingly, varying from the difference lifestyle between the two countries – Hermione had visited France before but Muggle side not the wizarding side – to exchanging notes about their school curriculum. From what she heard so far, it’s no wonder Fleur had looked down on Hogwarts (and British magical community) before. British wizarding world might be more advance in some aspects, but in term of equality progression they were still lacking compare to their fellows in the continent.

“_Je suis désolée, Hermione. _That was just … oh what’s the correct word in English again, outrageous!_”_

“I know, right? You make me wish that I had attended Beauxbaton instead.”

They shared light-hearted giggle while Ginny watched them in background, nursing her drink. It was not often for Ginny to be the one being left out of a conversation and with Amy leaving for the loo, she was relegated into observer. However, Hermione was too happy to meet someone who shared similar view about discrimination within magical world to notice her surroundings. She was quite startled when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hermione?”

She whirled around and gasped, “Viktor!” Surprised to see her Bulgarian friend standing behind her. “You’re still in London.”

Louisa looked unperturbed with the Quidditch star’s entrance, but not Ginny. Her shock was short lived though and quickly overcame with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Can you help me get more chips, Louisa? I don’t think I can carry it alone.”

Which was bullshite as years living through the Weasley big feast, Ginny was an expert in carrying foods proficiency. Louisa seemed about to remind her that she could use magic, but Ginny had swiftly grabbed her elbow and hauled her away from their table.

Hermione cursed under her breath at her blatant machination, but there’s nothing she could do with Viktor already took the vacant seat in front of her.

“I hope I don’t shoo your friend, Hermione.”

“Just don’t mind her,” she mumbled grudgingly. “I thought you already left.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I was busy, I’m sorry I haven’t owl-ed you, Hermione. So ... is the offer still valid or maybe I can invite you to dinner, as my apology perhaps,” he asked uncertainly, uncomfortable under her intriguing gaze.

“Sure,” she said warmly. Remembering her plan with the girls, she had better idea. “Or maybe I can show you around London then you can buy me meal after. Sunday next week, what do you think?” At his stunned look, she recoiled. “Ah sorry, you mentioned that you’re busy.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head amusedly. “It’s done. Well, actually you will read it in papers soon, Hermione. I’m resigning from the team and right now I’m hiding from Europe press in England.”

She was dumbfounded by his announcement that made her speechless for a moment. She was still trying to find the appropriate response when Amy returned.

“Where are Ginny and Louisa? Oh I’m sorry, you’re meeting a friend,” she added hastily as she noticed the man sitting opposite her and gasped, covering her mouth with her palm. “Yo-you’re Viktor Krum?” she sputtered.

“Yes, I am. Are you Hermione’s friend?” he queried good-naturedly. Amy nodded absentmindedly as if she was hypnotized. “Nice to meet you.” He turned to Hermione again. “I guess I must not interrupt your night with your friend any longer, Hermione. See you again.”

He took his retreat with a poise of Quidditch player he was. Once he’s far from hearing distance, Hermione had to jump from her chair to suppress Amy’s loud delighted squeal.

***

Martin’s condition turned out to be not as simple as the usual Dragon Pox was. It wasn't life threatening but more contagious than it normally did and his condition became more complicated when the treatment he’d received to prevent the spread of the disease ended up affecting his magic. Almost one month passed and he hadn’t shown up in the Ministry.

With no reason to go to DMLE and the Balcony was no longer her secret place, the only place Hermione spent her day other than her desk was the library and she was so very bored! Nothing she could do on her magical signature project, Kingsley hadn’t given any feedback of her Werewolf recommendation, and no new case assigned to her in main job.

Her days were full of repeated and basically same paperwork. It seemed Fieldwake find a way to influence Hickman because she never got any new assignment. Perhaps she finally realised that pushing her to boredom would drive her mad and effectively force her to quit – which unfortunately not far from the truth.

Hermione Granger was not a person who would feel happy and satisfy with _doing nothing_. It’s exasperating! She wished for something – _anything_ – to happen, even a mouse stealing her quill would do.

Luckily, she got to do something more interesting than finding a missing quill.

She was on the verge of hunting Kingsley and demanded his opinion on her Werewolf proposal so she could plan some follow up. Even her frustrated mind recognised how silly it was, the Minister of Magic would not appreciate it, he had more important things to do than catering a junior staff’s lack of work. Right at that moment Harry came to her desk, like a saviour he’d been called this whole time.

He didn’t even offer her a greeting and promptly said, “Can you come with me, Hermione? Now?”

His tone was light but by his stiff posture and cool gaze, she realised that this was not for an engagement between friends, so she didn’t utter any word and just followed him.

Her first thought was that there was another break-in she’d been unintentionally involved again. The other possibility was there’s new development on the last break-in and he needed her witness statement for confirmation. Except he didn’t move when the lift reached Level 2 so her assumptions were wrong, so was very surprised when he hopped off the lift at Level 9 instead.

Had they captured the perpetrator already and she had to give her testimony at the trial? But shouldn’t she get formal summons if that was the case?

Harry led her through windowless corridor, the light from the torches couldn’t chase the eerily air off since the wall was black-tiled. And instead of getting the answer, she became more confuse as they didn’t head to the small flight of steps to Level 10, but went straight to the plain black door at the end of the corridor.

Once she stepped into the empty familiar circular hall of dark marble floor, she recognised where she was. It had been 7 years since the last time she’s here but it was not something which she could forget easily. The hall was still lit by the same candles emitting a cool blue light, several doors leading to various chambers that still appeared in her dream sometimes, definitely not much had changes if her memory served her right.

“Hermione!”

She blinked. Two more times for her eyes to restore its focus. Harry’s call had managed to shake her from her daze but it was his warm touch on her arm that brought her perception back.

“I’m sorry?” she breathed, still in process to gather her composure.

Her friend looked concern. “You okay?”

She forced a reassuring smile and nodded. This was not big deal, she was just thrown back to a near forgotten memory, not having panic attack nor one of her daydream episode. No need to make him worry.

“I had similar reaction,” he remarked soothingly. “You sure you can handle it?”

“Why don’t you just tell me why you brought me here,” she replied evenly.

Harry made sure that nobody was around before he spoke. “We need your magical signature expertise. Robards doesn’t want to include too many people in so with Martin still indisposed, our second option is you.”

She wouldn’t say that she was surprised that the last break-in had something to do with Department of Mystery (again), considering the secrecy around it she should have deduce it from the start.

“Lead the way,” was her answer.

He told her to wait instead, disappearing behind a mahogany door and returned around ten minutes later with a stern-faced middle-age man who was likely an Unspeakable. This didn’t surprise her either. It was well known that they were the only division in the Ministry who didn’t answer to anyone – in some case even to the Minister himself – so there’s no way they would let anyone from DMLE snooping around without supervision, no matter the situation.

A bit anticlimax for her initial anxiety, the room they were in didn’t have anything interesting inside. No brain in a tank, no Time Turner, no shining orbs. It was basically just a spacious room with a small strange round table at its centre. However that’s not where they went, the Unspeakable directed them to what looked like to be, surprisingly, three sets of normal work table in the corner.

Without being told what to do, Hermione knew that this was where she should start to work so without wasting any more time she wielded her wand, careful not to touch anything but it didn’t mean that her eyes couldn’t spot a name written on several parchments scattered on one of the table that made her heart stop for a second in alarm. This was not the right place to share her finding with Harry though. They were only given limited time to be here anyway.

Either it’s because Unspeakables didn’t like outsiders in their working space or because it was because what happened seven years ago but they weren’t allowed to be there for 20 minutes only, not enough time to investigate so the best option was to gather as much data as possible. It didn’t take long for her to map out all magical residues she could detect and copied the patterns into an enchanted parchment for further examination later.

Once their twenty minutes was up, they were ushered out from the room and directed to the entrance. Even though she wanted to leave as fast as she could, but Hermione was able maintaining her steps to remain unhurried and steady for along her short walk to the door, she could feel the reproachful glare directed at her back. She wasn’t an Occlumens, but surely she would sense something if someone performed Legilimency on her, right?

“... but I need to reiterate that you have to keep this a secret.”

Hermione was snapped from her musing and quickly regained her composure, only realised now that they were already inside the lift.

“Ah, of course. I know that, Harry,” she assured him. “By the way, are you free after this? Let’s grab a drink, I haven’t seen you in awhile. There’s something I want to show you.” The last sentence was said like an afterthought, but they’d known each other for half their lifetime so he understood her hidden message.

The door opened and entered a witch Hermione recognised to be a secretary in Department of Magical Accident and two wizards who didn’t stop their conversation about Gobstones as they joined them inside the lift.

“Sure. Let’s meet in Atrium at five.” They didn’t talk anything else until the lift stopped at his floor and he left her with another new occupant.

Although it was unusual for Hermione to leave early but her co-workers knew about her ‘feud’ with Fieldwake so none uttered a single word when they saw her packing twelve minutes to five or that she was the first among them to leave their office that evening. And if they saw that she was leaving together with Harry, it was not a strange occurrence as well.

“Is Ginny preparing a surprise for me?” Harry noted in a jest as they strolled the pavement leading to her flat. They were lucky that the rain had stopped.

She sniffled lightly. “If she is, then I don’t know nor will I ever betray her. Girl’s code.”

But no more jokes between them after that. Hermione had no reason to slowing her walk anymore, she needed to check her suspicion immediately.

When they arrived at her flat, she went straight to her bedroom, leaving Harry to let himself in. He was no stranger to this place so he had no problem to make himself at home. In fact, he was comfortably lounging on the sofa when Hermione returned, hugging a book in her arm.

She sat next to Harry and questioned him without preamble. “Do you know that table belong to Ollivander?”

“I can’t answer it, Hermione,” he replied shortly. “You’re not authorised and you promised that you’re not going to be privy.”

She huffed. “Fine. I’ll just tell you my deduction then.” She put the book on the table, rearranged her sitting position so she’s facing him. “Someone broke into the Ministry using Polyjuice and he took something from Department of Mystery, something that was on the table I’ve been examined. This break-in was planned and Auror Office knew about this, that’s why the security was increased with the Fountain. I know I’m right Harry, don’t waste your breath to deny it. You also kept reminding me of the secrecy last summer when ...” New recollection flash in her mind and she gasped in horror.

“Oh my God, it’s Death Eater! You approached me to work on the Fountain not long after Lucius Malfoy’s death and now another break-in in Department of Mystery again. This is too much for a coincidence. It means we have bigger problem than you think, Harry.”

“I appreciate your concern, Hermione,” he cut her rambling and stood up, ready to go. “But you are not authorised and I can’t let you involving yourself in the case.”

Hermione grabbed his elbow hastily. “No-no-no, you don’t understand, Harry.” She pulled him down to sit again and shoved the sketch of the stone gate to him. “I can’t prove it, but I think this sketch belongs to Ollivander and was among the things that was stolen. One thing for sure, this sketch is from this book.”

She opened the book to a page that had similar illustration. One trait she had that she’d always proud off was that she never forgot anything she’d ever seen, this was why the sketch looked familiar, she’d seen it in this book before.

“On 15th century, there’s still a dispute over the precise time, a German wizard named Heinz Rendtorff travelled around the world in a quest to find the origin of magic. Throughout his journey, he met many magical being and community which he wrote it down on his journal. The journal itself is believed no longer exist, either lost or destroyed, but when he arrived in British Isles he took Eustace Hordwill as a pupil who later translated part of the journal in English as some sort of magical lore.

“This is called ‘the Gate’,” she continued, pointing on the sketch. “There’s no explanation of what it was exactly, but this was mentioned when he stumbled upon a Woodland-Elf colony, Seelie, somewhere in British Isles. They told him about ley line and magic of the land. It’s also mentioned in other tales, about how a lot of magical being believed that magic comes from Earth.

“So Harry, what if there’s some truth in this lore as well,” she said in conspiratorial tone. “_If_ story of the Deathly Hallow in the Tales of Beedle the Bard is real, what if this is also an allusion of some magical artefact buried somewhere, its magic is very strong to the point that it leaks and creates ley line. We don’t know who is this Ollivander or what he had worked in the Department of Mystery, but we know that Ollivander is an old family renowned of their wandlore expertise, they study magic. It’s not a coincidence that he had this,” she finished with a victorious smile adorning her face.

His face darkened, but it quickly dissolved into a chuckle. “That’s a very good deduction, Hermione. Do you read Sherlock Holmes often or you prefer Agatha Christie?”

Maybe he’s tired of using the same reason to refuse her or he knew if he flaunted his Auror badge over her, she would take it as a challenge. Hence he chose the third option, diversion. No matter, it wouldn’t work on her.

“So, when will we meet this Mr Ollivander?” she asked him instead.

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

His tone was light and patronising, so she returned it with a warm lopsided smile and chirp tone when she said, “Oh, you’re welcome, Harry. You’re lucky I’m in generous mood today so I’ll offer my help before you even ask.”

“Hermione ...,” he warned her.

“No, Harry. I promise you I won’t pry about the break-in and I’ll keep my word. I’m researching about origin of magic here, you know since Kingsley assigned me to work on magical signature.”

His reply sounded more like pleading than warning. “I’m sorry Hermione, but I can’t let you.”

“Oh, really? What make you think I will need your permission to meet him?” she snapped. “In this situation, I think you need me more than I need you. With the secrecy around Unspeakables and the fact that Kingsley is away until next week, I’m very confident that I can find him sooner than you do since between the two of us, I’m the one who have access to Ministry Archive.”

She felt bad for venting her frustration on him like that. It seemed like she bullied him just so she had something to do to break her boredom, she was throwing tantrum like a brat. However her hurried make up excuse had some valid point, technically she didn’t break her promise, so she held her ground.

Harry groaned in defeat. “Why don’t you just apply for transfer to DMLE? We won’t have this argument then,” he lamented. “If you don’t want to be an Auror, you can join Investigator team. I’m sure Kingsley and Osbert will have no problem with that.”

Hermione curled the corner of her lips in a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t take credit about the Quidditch Final, how the match went and that Krum resigned from the team after, I got that titbit from HPWiki. It didn’t mention about where it’s held though so I just made British to be the host again.


	19. Magic

Oh, she really loved it when she’s right.

With her full access to Ministry Registry and Ministry Archive, it only took her one afternoon to find out about Galvin Ollivander. Even though she couldn’t find any record about his work in Department of Mystery but his current address was listed and, lucky her, it was a century old house. Using House-Elf employment as excuse, she penned a letter for a visit on Friday.

It was too easy and she couldn’t help to wonder why Harry hadn’t reached him first. Considering that he was actually Garrick Ollivander’s uncle, with his fondness on Harry he should have no problem to tell Harry if he asked. Unless Harry didn’t know about his connection to the case before she’d told him, which was strange because why else then had he wanted to investigate his working table. Not that Harry would not tell her anything if she questioned him.

So she didn’t say more than what necessary when she informed him about the appointment. Gone was the day when there’s no secret between them, where they would conquer every obstacle together. Oh, the price of growing up. 

That thought flashed in her mind as they walked side by side towards the lone red bricked cottage by the cliff. Who could predict the future, they would always be friend, she’s sure of it, but their paths might go to different direction somewhere. She felt a gentle tug in her chest, realising this might be their last ‘adventure’ together.

“Ron was sorry, you know,” Harry blurted suddenly.

Hermione huffed a resigned sigh, glancing at the empty space on Harry’s other side. Yes, in fact they’d already missed one person in their ‘together’. If not for their job titles, it’s for other reason as well.

Somehow Ron had found out about her meeting with Viktor and to say that he didn’t take it well was an understatement. Two days ago, once more Harry’d had to be the referee for their screaming match which had ended with him leaving in anger as usual. She reckoned that Ron needed to work on his jealousy, but unfortunately she didn’t have time to help him in this matter right now.

“You know what, Harry. Between the three of us, Ron is the most expert in apologising,” she remarked tepidly. “Admitting your mistake and apologise is hard thing to do, but at his rate I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or not.”

He gave out an amused chortle. “Well, he has his moment. But so do we.”

“Then you don’t need to worry, I know the drill. He’ll come around, apologise, and I’ll forgive him,” Hermione dead-panned. In time like this, she wondered how it would be they had decided to be in relationship. Perhaps they would add break-up and make-up as their new routine. _Oh joy_, she thought wryly.

They had arrived at the front door so their conversation had to reach an end. Since Hermione was the one who made this appointment, Harry took a step aside to indicate his stance as her entourage. They didn’t need to wait long for the door to open. Standing before them was a man who looked so ancient, the missing long beard only accentuated every wrinkle and folded skin on his face.

“Miss Granger, right on time. I’ve been expecting you.” His gaze moved to the man on her side. A flicker of suspicion flashed in his expression but instantly replaced by a polite welcoming smile. “Ah Mr Potter! To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving war hero visit in my humble home?”

His hand was still on the handle and he didn’t show any sign of moving from where he stood. For a second Hermione thought perhaps bringing Harry with her was not a good decision. Living alone in a small secluded cottage facing the North Sea far from everywhere despite his advance age should say something about his character.

“I’m sorry Mr Ollivander, but are we going to converse here?” Hermione interjected in her most pleasant and smooth tone. If there’s one thing that she’d learnt the most while working in Office for House-Elf Relocation, that was how to handle Pure-blood echelon, especially one from older generation.

He covered his surprised at her jab with a controlled laugh. “My bad, forgive this old man. It’s not often I receive guest, sometimes it seems I just forget my manner. Please do come in.”

The inside of the house was more spacious than the impression it gave from outside. Hermione was not sure whether it was some Extendable Charm in place or merely a combination of minimal furniture and how it was arranged. However, the unfortunate side effect of it was that the room felt cold and empty with just a lone coffee table and its set of chairs at the centre – it looked to be placed exactly at the centre of the room – facing to the large glass window, the wall was bare with not even wallpaper to decorate it.

“Very interesting arrangement you have here, sir,” she verbalised her thought.

Mr Ollivander gestured them to take a seat. “Thank you, Miss Granger. I just don’t like anything obstructs my view.”

His point was emphasised with him sitting on the chair that faced directly towards the window and only wall behind him while Hermione and Harry had the door on their back. He didn’t say anything else after that though. It was pretty obvious that there would be no more pleasantries but he wouldn’t be the one who broached whatever subject they’d have first.

Hermione held back not to sigh or roll her eyes since it would depict her as tactless and crass which would only lead her back to front door in no time. Pure-blood. But he was way older than her so for whatever reason, it would be ill-mannered of her to be rude.

“Mr Ollivander,” she addressed him amicably, “as I mentioned in my letter, my visit today is related to House-Elf. Following the last war, many House-Elves are without master and currently the Ministry is looking for new house to relocate them. Forgive me for being direct, but do you willing to house one, sir?”

He rubbed his chin, eyeing her with assessing look. After a while, he noted, “I heard what you did to several well known families, Miss Granger. That was very clever, though I’m curious what made you change your approach.”

“It’s well known that I love learning new thing, sir.”

“I see,” he said evenly. He shifted his attention to Harry. “I don’t socialised much nowadays, so forgive me if I wasn’t aware that a simple matter like House-Elf relocation needs to be escorted by Auror, Mr Potter.”

“Actually I’m here for different matter,” the young Auror confessed.

“Oh, please do tell, Mr Potter. That’s the least I can do after you saved my nephew. If my family wand-making art still live on today, it’s only because of your action.”

“Please don’t mention it, sir. We just happened to be at the same place, there’s no heroic rescue mission.”

Harry was never good with praise, especially over what he had done during the war. Many times he told her how he didn’t deserve most of the feats that was credited to him, it always made him feel uncomfortable and uneasy. Hermione knew that he never liked his hero status which always made her wondered why he chose Auror as a career.

He cleared his throat and brought them back to his objective. “Mr. Ollivander, what do you know about Augustus Rookwood?” he inquired straightforwardly.

A brief twitch on his eyebrow was the only hint that it wasn’t a question he’d expected. Still, nothing betrayed his composure. “Ah, that young fellow. But it’s been years since I retired from Ministry, Mr Potter. I’m afraid the only thing I can tell you is that we were working in the same department at the same time at some point.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously and pressed on, “This is important. It will not be good for you if we find out that you keep a secret about him.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you, Mr Potter.” He stood up, indicating that their conversation – and thus their audience – was over. He remained cordial though, maybe this was some sort of standard mannerism of politeness among Pure-blood because Hermione often saw it in her usual house visits. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have other engagement this afternoon. If you –”

“What is the Gate, Mr Ollivander?” Hermione cut-in from her seat. Gryffindor never talked in circle and this whole prevarication really began to grate her.

This one incited more significant reaction from him. His piercing stare stayed longer on her, scrutinising. For the first time Hermione could read him; he’s gauging how much she knew and maybe contemplating whether to humour her or not. Since he’s standing she had to lift her chin to maintain eye contact, but she wouldn’t back down even if she would ended up with stiff neck.

Fortunately, only a minute ticked by and his face softened again. “Miss Granger, do you know why Muggle-born is called Mudblood?”

So Gryffindor’s approach didn’t work on him. She bit the inner side of her cheek to hold her growl. They shared same surname so naively she thought that he would be easy to talk to like Ollivander the wandmaker. But then again, Walburga Black was Sirius’s mother and looked how they were.

She caught a movement on her left and was quick enough to grab Harry’s elbow in warning. Taking a discreet deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face again when she turned back to Ollivander, showing that his word didn’t affect her. “No, I don’t. Although since my _kind_’s blood is red, not brown, I’m sure it wasn’t because of the colour,” she answered calmly.

“Knowledge, Miss Granger, is an invaluable treasure. Considering your heritage, it’s surprising that you even know about Elf’s bond,” he continued this byplay in the same light tone.

“As I said earlier, Mr Ollivander, I’m always willing to learn.”

“Alas, not every Muggle-born thinks like you, Miss Granger. They’re lacking in magical knowledge yet most don’t want to learn. On the contrary, they deem it old fashioned and replace it with their Muggle culture. Looking at their uncouth behaviour, some has wondered was it because they came from dirty blood,”

Hermione recognised that he was baiting her, but not Harry. This time, he jumped to his feet, ready to strike, faster than her hand.

“HARRY, SIT DOWN!” Her tone was enough to freeze Harry on his track. “If you can’t listen then you can leave. I’ll be fine on my own,” she admonished him, no room for doubt that she’s serious. Returned to Ollivander, she spoke as if they weren’t interrupted “So Mr Ollivander, would you care to elaborate?”

Ollivander cracked a lopsided smile and lowered down onto his chair, sitting in more relax manner than previously. “Very well then. But for this conversation, we will need tea. Mr Potter?”

Harry gritted his teeth, but sat back on his chair. Ollivander flicked his fingers, demonstrating his ability in wandless magic to summon three cups and a pot of tea. Silence descended as he prepared tea for them with no urgency. He even waited until they sipped their tea quietly before he started.

“What you must know, Miss Granger, is that magic doesn’t manifest to every creature randomly, including among human,” he began.

“I assume at least one of my ancestors was magical. I haven’t figured it out who, but he or she most likely was Squip, banished to Muggle world due to the lack of magic.”

“It didn’t always happen that way, Miss Granger, especially in the beginning when both communities still openly mingled with each other. Even the term of Squip or Muggle-born had not existed, there’s only magical and non-magical one. Then we have Statue of Secrecy,” he recounted.

“It started with the typical reasons, Miss Granger; the quest to discover the ultimate magic. The general knowledge was that magic came from inside of us, some said it was generated by the body while other thought that it came from the soul. There was an old belief that wizards could access their magical core when they were in the throes of passion, after all what more _magical_ than the ancient ritual of creating a new life? Even better if they’re virgin, Maidenhood Blood was famous to be very potent in harnessing magic.”

“Rape,” she spat in disdain. “They raped Muggle girls, used them for dark magic then most likely Obliviate them later. And later they said their bastard descendants stole their magic?”

“Making assumption and jumping to conclusion. A bit unwise when you’re pursuing knowledge, Miss Granger.” His tone was patronising but enough to make her feel properly chastised. “It was not considered rape back then. Having advantage with their magic, it’s not hard for a wizard to elevate his status among Muggles, many even managed to join the rank of nobles. And by owning an estate, they’re not only ‘own’ the land, but also people who lived there as well.”

Her breath hitched. “_Jus Primae Noctis_,” she whispered.

Harry frowned at her in puzzlement but she ignored him, there’s no time to explain it to him yet.

“It’s known as _Droit du seigneur_ in my homeland. But your assumption is not fully incorrect,” he remarked. “You have to remember that at that time, siring illegitimate child was not uncommon among nobles. Not to mention magical conception was more difficult than non-magical one. It’s very often that if the child was identified as magical, especially if it’s a boy, he would be adopted by the legal wife and was acknowledged as legitimate heir when the legal wife couldn’t provide one, which was also very common.

“But this practice was out of favour rather quickly, even frowned upon among the peerage, especially in magical circle after intercourse was later seen as something sacred, the bonding of two souls hence their magic as well. The fact that this practice had ever happened was denied, all records vanished, until it was only a myth and was forgotten.

“As magical community enlarge, the segregation with non-magical community became larger as well. So when suddenly child with magical ability seemed to appear out of nowhere in non-magical community, it certainly raised questions. But the older generations knew the truth. Parents who both had blond hair and blue eyes could have a baby with dark hair and brown eyes just because one of their great-grandfather had one. It’s easy to deduce what had happened.

“It’s not the blood that dirty, Miss Granger, it’s the act of how they were conceived. And to put distance from it, either because they distasted it or to conceal their past sins or involvement, the newly first magical generation were given bad reputation.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. It’s make sense, Nobody surely never wanted their great-grandchildren finding out their past debauchery when said kid befriending their unknown long lost cousin in some Muggle village, even worse if they felt in love with each other. It would be a huge scandal if the secret was ever uncovered and after dealing with many Pure-blood, Hermione knew how important reputation was for them, particularly among the wealthy one who most likely had ancestors with Muggle noble title.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione commented, filling the silence that had descended for the past five minutes, “in the beginning you’ve mentioned that magic is within us, I’ve heard similar theory from many other sources. But the way you put it, it sounds like being magical is like having inherited genetic defect. Biologically there’s nothing different between Muggle and wizardkind or someone would surely notice when I did my medical check-up in the past. Physically, I mean, nothing different,” she added hastily as she presumed Ollivander wouldn’t understand what she meant by ‘genetic’ or ‘biology’.

“So that leaves soul as the source of magic. But then it would be like you split your soul and give it to your child. I just can’t fathom how it can be done when both parents and child still alive and well.” Horcrux came up in her mind, but in that case Mr and Mrs Weasley would be competing with Voldemort with their seven children.

The way Ollivander looked at her, it seemed like he gave her an approval. “Do you know that not every wood can be made into a wand, Miss Granger? Or have you ever wondered why you never find pigeon feather or lion mane been used as wand core? Can you guess why?”

Hermione chewed her lower lip, her fingers tapping her knee in methodical rhythm – an old habit when she’s deep in thought. It really helped that Harry was quiet, not even fidgeting like impatient teenager he used to be. Instead he did pay attention of their conversation, just listening with mouth tightly shut as if he never intended to interrupt.

“We don’t have magic because magic is external force,” she surmised. “Being magical, there’s something in our gene – our DNA – that makes us can access it. Just like a wand, our body is only a medium to wield magic. Is that why it’s said that wandless magic is more draining so we use wand instead of our body?”

He gave her an open and wide smile, clearly pleased. “You do live up to your reputation, Miss Granger,” he said genially. “Oh we do have magic, Miss Granger, because the ability to wield it is also part of magic itself. We’re magical because we have the ‘key’ to access magic. But you’re right, it’s an external force. In fact, I believe that it comes from earth.

“Many old lore mentioned about magic of the land. In wandlore, that’s the reason why we use wood instead of metal even though wood is more fragile. Tree is the only living being that connect directly into the earth. However, its feature is too different than us human so small part of magical creature is added as intermediary. And just like in human where there are some who can access magic while other can’t, same for tree and other creature.”

“You mean the Gate is literally a _gate_, like some sort of an entrance to a magical land where magic is coming? Like Avalon or Tir na nOg?”

He barked a merry guffaw, as if he’s happier than her that she figured it out. “Miss Granger, your mind is wasted in the House-Elf Relocation Office. Have you ever considered working in Department of Mystery? I’ll be glad to give you my recommendation if you ever change your mind.”

“Thank you, sir. But right now, I’m happy with my job,” she replied, suddenly feeling shy. “Is it real then? The Gate? Did anybody ever find it or prove its existence?”

“Is Avalon real? Has anybody ever been in Tir no nOg? Who know?”

So he’s back to evasion again, something that she now reckoned to mean that he wouldn’t answer. Or it could be he wanted her to find it out herself like some or his earlier questions. Although it could also meant a simple ‘no’. Other possibility was that nothing was proven yet there’s strong evidences (whatever it was) led to it, the research was still ongoing in the Department of Mystery and the data was most likely was the things that were stolen.

This baffled her, what’s wrong with direct and open discussion anyway. Minus the long beard, the way Ollivander conducted himself reminds her of Dumbledore. Or maybe old age brought a tendency to speak in riddle, intentionally done to confuse the younger.

“It’s a pleasure to converse with you, Miss Granger, but I apologise, I do have another engagement this past noon.”

Hermione startled awake from her stupor, blinking to gather her wit back. Harry was more in control and he responded for them both.

“Thank you for your time, Mr Ollivander. We’ll leave you to it then.” He rose up from his seat, gesturing Hermione to do the same with a tilt of his head.

Ollivander escorted them to the door. He didn’t let go of her hand when she bid her farewell.

“I suppose somehow you stumble upon Rendtorff’s text, Miss Granger,” he said. “Use it well if you happen to have it in your hand. There’s a lot of knowledge you will discover in it. Just keep your mind open and don’t fixate to one assumption.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

Hermione heard the door shut when they passed the hedge. She only managed three more yard before she broke their silent walk. They were in open and the sea breeze would cover their voice anyway so no need to worry about being overheard.

“So? Where will we start?”

“Nowhere,” Harry replied shortly, didn’t slow his pace or even glance at her. “I’m serious, Hermione. No more after this.”

She’s not accepting it though. “Harry, you mentioned Rookwood back there. He’s the one behind this, right? I know I’m right with my suspicion that this has something to do with Death Eater. What if this was part of Voldemort’s plan that he wants to continue?”

“Then I just have to catch him before he did,” he stated in the same flat tone and resolute manner. “I learnt my lesson, Hermione. Every time I snoop around, I only ended up helping my enemy getting what they want. So instead of chasing what he’s after, I’ll hunt him down.”

“But– ,”

He abruptly stopped, spun around to face her. “Some secret are better left untouched, Hermione. And we’re talking about a place, not an object that can be taken unlike the Hallows. And from what Ollivander said, nobody has ever managed to prove its existence. So even if it’s real, it will be safe. Leave it, okay.”

It’s very unusual for Harry to raise his voice at her and his opinion was not unfounded as well, so she backed down. At least for now.

“How will you report this to Kingsley?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t need to know about this Gate. I definitely can’t make it sound convincing without mentioning about the Hallows. After all, who in their right mind will take a child bedtime story seriously.”

“Dragon is part of bedtime story yet it turns out to be real,” she murmured.

“Point.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, willing her to look at his eyes. “Promise me you will not pursue this again, okay. You have your own job, it’s your main responsibility.”

“You know I can’t make that promise, right?” She returned the sentiment with a defiant stare.

He released a loud defeated sigh. “Just don’t do anything dangerous then,” he conceded. “Spend your time in library reading ten inches old tome as much as you want, but don’t put yourself in dangerous situation like sneaking into place you don’t belong.”

A sound came out from her mouth as she started to protest but he held up a finger to silence her.

“I know you can take care of yourself, Hermione, but you don’t have any obligation to be involved in this. You’re one of few I have left in my life and I can never risk you to be in unnecessary danger. Please, do it for me, just for my peace of mind,” he pleaded.

When he put it that way, she didn’t have any other choice besides to nod. She’d grant him his wish, she'd put it aside for now.

Hermione was not one who believed in superstition but at that moment, she hoped the howling wind that crash towards them was not an ominous sign for whatever to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Wikipedia and other sources:  
* _Jus Primae Noctis_ (Latin): “right of the first night”, is the right of local noble to deflower local peasant bride on her wedding night (remember Mel Gibson’s Braveheart?). Most historians agreed that it’s actually fiction (at least in Europe).
> 
> * Avalon: “the isle of fruit (or apples) trees", called by Morgan le Fay as the place where "the ladies live who know all the magic in the world”. It is an island in Arthurian legend where the sword of Excalibur was forged and later where Arthur was taken to recover after the Battle of Camlann.
> 
> * Tir na nOg (Irish – Yes, according to Google, that’s how you write it, I don’t misplace the capital): “the land of youth”, is the realm of the Otherworld in Celtic legend, the place where the Fae lives and heroes visited on quests, where there’s no illness or death or time, but only happiness and beauty. The best known tale of Tir na nOg is the story of the young Irish warrior Oisin.


	20. Matter of Heart

“This building was part of the Palace of Whitehall, a creation of Henry VIII after he became Supreme Head of the Church of England. The palace was a resident of English monarch from 1530 to 1698, while this building had been completed on 1622 as the third house after the first two were destroyed in a rather dramatic fashion. A legend says, this one almost met the same fate if not for Sir Christopher Wren blew up an adjacent building which saved it from the Great Fire of 1666. Even so, it’s a fact that this building is the only surviving building when the Whitehall Palace was burned down in 1698.

“And above you, ladies, is Rubens’ ceiling – the only surviving in-situ ceiling painting by Flemish artist, Sir Peter Paul Rubens.” Hermione waved her hand towards the ceiling, presenting the artistic pieces to her friends.

“_Magnifique!_”

That was Louisa, she’s the only who seemed to pay attention to what Hermione said, dismissing the audio guide so she could freely discuss with her. Amy was clearly overwhelmed by her first trip to Muggle world, her eyes kept darting from one object to another with amazement. As for Ginny, history and art were never her thing so she occupied herself by making sure that they wouldn’t lose Amy.

Hermione pulled Louisa aside to give way to a group of Asian tourists. “Indeed. Charles I even granted him knighthood to lure him to stay, but he chose to go back to Antwerp,” she half whispered, not to disturbed other visitors. “Anyway, Charles I commissioned it to honour his late father, James I. As you can see, three main canvases depict his reign; The Union of the Crowns, The Apotheosis of James I and The Peaceful Reign of James I.”

“He was beheaded, right? Charles I?”

“Executed on a scaffold in front of this building. It was said that this painting was the last thing he saw,” Hermione supplied.

She snorted. “And French abolished monarchy to become republic, while you guys put another man on the throne and remain one.”

“Well, you can’t compare Cromwell with Robespierre,” Hermione countered, but she quickly deflected the subject back to the painting. “Thankfully this painting survived the wrath of Cromwell. It would be a shame if it was destroyed or we lost this to some private collector.”

Although she did enjoy their debates – Louisa was very knowledgeable and had a progressive mind – but Hermione thought she wasn’t ready to touch politic. From how they exchanged opinions, for outsider they might look like a long time best friend, even Hermione felt that she had known her for long with how similar their minds were. However, in reality they only became acquaintance for around a week and this was just their second meeting, it’s too soon to talk about politic especially between two different countries.

From painting, they moved to talk about architecture. This time around, Hermione was more of a listener of Louisa’s commentary because she didn’t know much about Italianate Renaissance style or the concept of Palladianism. She welcomed it though, it’s refreshing to not become the only know-it-all sometimes. All in all, she’s glad that her last minute change of plan worked well.

The initial plan was to visit Buckingham Palace. The usual Hermione would plan and prepare every single tiny detail days before the date, but the last visit to old Ollivander was a big distraction. She didn’t check whether it’s open on the day they planned to go (which was not) and they only could see it from outside the fence.

It’s like she’d failed at being a good host and she never liked failure. As they strolled down St James’s Park, she’d thought of taking them to Kensington Palace then she remembered Banqueting House. It was less known than Kensington Palace but visiting less popular place might bring different experience, technically it was also part of a palace once.

She also heard that there’s a new attraction by the Thames, a large Ferris wheel, which they could visit later. Viewing Muggle London from above surely would appeal even Ginny, bonus point that _sans_ broomstick meant it’s _safe_ and _legal_. And if Amy’s enthusiasm when they rode bus from Charing Cross was the indication, riding London Eye would be more thrilling for her. Surprisingly, not only she’d never been to Muggle world before, she’d actually never ridden any vehicle other than Hogwarts Express either.

“Er, Hermione.” The said person broke her thought. While Ginny and Louisa went to the loo, she was left waiting with Amy at the hall. “Can I ask you something?”

Amy could be rather naive sometimes, but never timid. The way she fidgeting kind of worried her, she knew it had nothing to do with Muggles around them, yet she gestured her to continue.

“I don’t mean to be impudent or privy, but I know that you dated Ron before.” She paused, examining Hermione’s expression, then hastily said, “How you can remain good friend after it’s over?”

Caught off guard by the question, Hermione blurted the first thing that came out in her mind. “Did he ask you out?”

Amy cast down her eyes, blushing. “No, it’s Lee,” she muttered shyly.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. Finally Lee made his move, she wondered whether Ron and George (and maybe Ginny) had a bet going on about this. She couldn’t tell from Amy’s reaction what the outcome would be though, she looked reluctant yet, judging from her blush, also seemed to be flattered by the attention.

“So do you or don’t you want to date him?” she proffered.

“I don’t know,” murmured Amy, wringing her thumb left and right.

“Is this because of your father? Did he forbid you?”

At this, Amy burst out a giggle. “If my father hears about this, he might push this into engagement. Marrying me off will be a good excuse to keep me at home because I would be expected to give him grandchild soon after so I’d be fulltime housewife, caring for my family.”

“So you feel uncertain because your father might use it to tie you down?” Hermione surmised.

Amy tilted her head, appeared to want to shake her head but halted it. “Maybe. Partly. I really don’t know,” she admitted. She finally looked up at her and spoke, “My parents’ was an arranged marriage, but they’re lucky that they fell in love after they married. My father wants me to have it too, that’s why he didn’t put me into the same arrangement. He wants me to find love. And I want it too.”

Although they’d known each other for over a year, but Hermione never particularly close with Amy. In fact, their common link was Ginny (and occasionally Ron) so she was confused why she wanted her advice instead of from Ginny. Or maybe because they’re not close to both parties so Amy thought she would have more neutral perspective.

“How do you feel about Lee?”

“He’s nice,” Amy said. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

And there lay the answer.

“Whatever you’ve read about me and Ron on papers, especially written by Rita Skeeter, was untrue. We never dated,” she stated.

“But you have feeling for him, right? So does him. Yet you two remain friend.”

Hermione sighed. Pouring her heart out to Ginny was one thing, but she didn’t know Amy well. She reckoned that Amy didn’t mean any harm though, she surely wouldn’t blab this to Skeeter.

“It’s not that simple, Amy,” she said. “I always take everything seriously, including dating. Ron and I ... we have a lot of thing to sort out before we can start relationship.”

“But he’s very nice. You even very close to his family.”

“Nice is not a good enough reason for dating. And my association with his family only make the stake higher, I can’t risk it,” she reasoned. “We ... I have to be very sure if I decide to start relationship with him. And for now, my career is my priority.”

Hermione left some gap before she continued. “But that’s just me. Surely you have your own reason to decide what you want to do.”

She didn’t know what her response would be because their friends returned the next second with Ginny quite literally hauled her by her neck, complaining that she’s hungry.

They found a nice little cafe not far from Banqueting House. It’s not crowded, there’s couple of unoccupied tables available, but they picked the table on the far corner. It’s far from the window but they were less likely to be disturbed by the ongoing of other customers, especially here where they were surrounded by Muggle and they couldn’t cast Muffling Charm around them. They didn’t want to be overheard when their conversation veered to magic.

Although judging from the no-reaction from the waiter who brought the order when Ginny said something about flying in broomstick, if anyone happened to hear one or two words about magic in their conversation, they might assume that they were talking about some fictions. After all, British literacy was full of myth and tales about magic. Eventually, they reckoned that talking in hushing voice would be more suspicious than chatted normally, even when the topic was about magic.

“So you’re saying that it was protected from fire by magic?” Louisa verified after Hermione finished regaling the connection between the place they’d visited and British Ministry of Magic and the Balcony.

“I can’t find a solid proof, but that’s one of possible explanation. Back in the days, many wizards were in close proximity with peerage or even held titles, not to mention the building was directly connected to what later became the British Ministry of Magic Headquarter. The fire surely large enough that almost the whole palace was burned down.”

“Make sense,” she agreed. “It’s not very high though. Does it have a good view up there?”

“Yup, like Buckingham Palace for one. I can even claim that I had VIP seat to watch the Queen’s Golden Jubilee last time,” Hermione bragged conspiratorially in low voice.

It was the first (and maybe the only) time Hermione had ditched work for pleasure. Sure, she went to the Balcony during office hour many times, but she always brought her works with her so it was just changing work place. But in that early afternoon in June, she had gone to the rooftop with the sole purpose of watching the Queen’s Golden Jubilee celebration, nothing about work in her mind. In her defence, she hadn’t had pending task, her ‘feud’ with Fieldwake did make her workload in House-Elf Office decreased considerably. So no, she hadn’t felt guilty for using her working hour to watch the parade. It wasn’t planned, but she even had companion.

_It’s not a perfect day, but despite the unpredictability of London’s weather, it held off that day. The Mall was full of colours, be it from the decoration or various costumes worn by the parade and spectators (she brought her father’s binoculars to get better view). Even from afar, Hermione could feel the cheer and festivities of the fêtes. It’s contagious. Which was how she still had a wide smile plastered on her face when she heard the door opened._

_Whether it was her uncharacteristic too cheerful behaviour or the crowd visible in the distance but with just one look, Draco turned around, ready to leave._

_“No, wait! Don’t go!” She jumped and grabbed him. “It’s almost time for flypast. You have to see it, Draco!” she said enthusiastically while dragging him by his elbow towards the balustrade. The only possible reason of why he didn’t resist must be because he was stunned by her abrupt move and not because of her strong grip._

_And she’s right. Not long after, several planes appeared, flying above them. _

_“You see that, it’s called plane. Muggles don’t have flying broomstick, but they still can fly,” she chirped what would be the beginning of long narration of different type of war plane, just like how her grandfather had recited to her. _

_When her grandfather was still alive, it was sort of a tradition to take his only grandchild to watch the Trooping the Colour Parade. He was a RAF pilot in World War II and during the flypast, he would proudly explain to her about each plane as if it had its own personality. And although that tradition stopped after he passed away on her first year in Hogwarts, she still treasured the memory. Especially since he’s the only grandparent she could remember vividly, with her mother’s parents had been killed in car accident before she was born and her grandmother had gone when she was five._

_“And that’s the Spitfire. We used it during the war in 1940’s, to attack from above. The current one, like Concorde that you will see later, I can guarantee that it’s faster and can fly higher than any broomstick ever existed. It’s also more comfortable and l safer as well,” she boasted proudly._

_“And your point?” he said dryly, sounding bored._

_Hermione frowned, a little thrown off by his reaction – or the lack of. Because honestly, she recounted all of it to Draco not only to reminisce her grandfather, but also to gloat that Muggle was superior than wizards in term of flying. She expected him to be shocked, or maybe impressed, certainly not this flat response._

_Draco rolled his eyes at her confused look. “I’ve been in one, Granger. The bigger one.”_

_“What? In aeroplane?! But ... wh–”_

_“I’m tired, Granger,” he cut her in. He indeed looked haggard, if not peckish, which meant he was here for a nap. “Empty storeroom then,” he muttered and, without another glance, left._

_It took few seconds longer for her to process that apparently Draco Malfoy had travelled on passenger flight, that she’s rooted on her place staring at the closed door, completely missing the Red Arrows fly over display._

Maybe it had been Harry dragging him in one of their secret mission, travelling Muggle way surely would give them more cover. She had no opportunity to confirm it though, asking Harry would be too suspicious and the next time she met ‘privately’ with Draco was after the thievery at Department of Mystery.

It’s been awhile, he must have found a new hiding place. Even before the existence of the Balcony was exposed to Auror Office, she had sparsely met him there. It’s like both of them were busy with their own work or they always missed each other when they were there. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she did enjoy their banter and sometimes she kind of missed his snarky come back.

“And the only way to access it is from the Ministry?”

Hermione was jolted from her thought, finding Louisa looking at her questioningly. Her brain kicked in quickly. “Yes, the upper most level. But you can be there only if you’re Ministry staff or you have necessary clearance as a guest.”

These past two years in particular, security in the Ministry had been heightened gradually. It’s a known secret how easy it was for non-Ministry staff to come into most departments and Kingsley surely didn’t want to have some teenagers breaking in, stealing something, under his watch. With the revelation of another – unguarded – entrance on the Balcony, an additional enchantment had been put in place. Apparating into the Balcony was no longer possible, but Disapparated from it was still doable as an alternative evacuation route (she made note to find out how to do that kind of enchantment, it might be useful someday).

“Then you have more chance to be there than me, Amy,” remarked Louisa.

Hermione stared between Louisa and Amy, puzzled. The way Ginny calmly eating her cake indicated that she’s the only one who didn’t know. Did she miss something when she let her mind wandering a moment ago?

Sensing her confusion, Amy elucidated, “Percy told me there will be an opening for Junior Staff in Department of International Magical Cooperation before the year end. I’m planning to apply.”

No wonder she approached her instead of Ginny. She’s not looking for advice, she just needed validation.

“Great! You once said you want to work there, right?” Hermione noted encouragingly, then added, “But it means you’ll leave the shop then.”

Amy only smiled dejectedly and Louisa answered for her. “Once her father heard about Angelina, I don’t think he will not allow her to work there anymore.”

“Ron told you?!” Ginny interjected.

Louisa turned to her, the corner of her mouth twitched and there’s mirth in her eyes. “About what? Amy’s overprotective father or that Angelina is pregnant out of wedlock?” she offered, looking faintly amused in contrast with Ginny’s disapproval scowl.

“No for both,” she appeased her offhandedly. “I’ve been to the shop several times, you know, and with a little observation, it’s easy to deduce. Angelina and your brother never ever try to be subtle, it’s so obvious, and her pregnancy starts to show too. As for our friend over here,” She pointed Amy with her thumb over her shoulder. “How old are you anyway? 20 years old with curfew? And how can I not notice that she always has at least one female friend whenever she goes, in short: a chaperone. Just connect the clues and _voila_!”

Amy squirmed on her seat, eyes down on her knees.

“I’m not mocking you, okay,” she told Amy. “I understand that wizarding Britain is more ... conservative? traditional? than France. My Papa is also like that, he insisted to marry Maman after she’s pregnant with me. Oh Maman loves Papa, but she never like the idea of marriage, too constricting.”

“And you also against marriage,” Ginny snipped.

Knowing her well, Hermione could detect the chilly sharpness in her tone. But Louisa didn’t, so on the contrary, she took it as a question.

“Not really. I just prefer of staying together because my partner and I want it, more than to marry because society dictate it and stick in it even when later it turns into facade with both having affair with other people. For me, the most important part is the commitment between two people, not the label, especially when the said label comes with one party has to lose her identity.”

She had a point. In fact, Hermione agreed with most of what she said. Those views might be in part the result of their exposure to Muggle culture because the other two who came from wizarding family seemed to not share the same thought. While Amy was bewildered, which was normal since it must not be something she was taught or heard at her home, Ginny looked affronted.

Trying to diffuse the situation, she commented, “Don’t say your mother keep her maiden name.” Right after she uttered it, she knew that she chose the wrong subject.

“Of course, but consecutively I get Papa’s surname. I want to hyphenate since I’m also my Maman’s daughter as much as Papa’s, but Papa won’t take it,” she groused dismally.

“Did you heard that Neville propose to Hannah?” Amy announced suddenly. “It will be summer wedding.”

Amy must also sense Ginny seething her teeth and jumped in to help Hermione to be the peacekeeper. Hermione was not sure how she did it, but even though she’s still threading on the topic about marriage, Amy managed to seamlessly herd the conversation back into light hearted chat.

The ‘crisis’ was successfully averted this time. However, Hermione had no doubt that she would hear Ginny’s long rant about Louisa. It’s a rather strange though, she knew that Ginny didn’t have rigid perception about marriage or gender roles so she wondered why she reacted so strongly towards Louisa’s opinion. She recalled the last time Ginny act this way was towards Fleur, who’s also French. Did Ginny have short fuse against French witch or there’s other reason she didn’t know?

_Well, wouldn’t it be very interesting if Louisa somehow ended up become her sister in law too_, Hermione mused.

***

Unlike yesterday in which she Apparated home from Charing Cross, today she chose to take a bus to Sutton after dropping Viktor at Leaky Cauldron. Going by bus and walking from bus stop to her flat would give her ample time to organise her thought. There would be nobody at the flat since Ginny was in Wales, but she preferred to arrive home with a clear mind and rest instead of having inner argument in empty house.

Overall her outing with the Quidditch player today had gone well. After her excursion with the girls to the London Eye the day before, Hermione realised that it was a perfect place to take Viktor to. He’s not someone who’s into historical building or Muggle culture, he’d be polite if she took him to museum but she knew that he wouldn’t really enjoy it. However, as a flyer like Ginny, having bird’s eye view of London would be something that he’d enjoy, way better than bussing around the city or sight-seeing on foot. And he did like it.

Later, they went to Muggle restaurant because if they were seen together in a wizard establishment, they would attract unnecessary attention, worse if press got a whiff of it. So she’d taken him to a curry house, one that she knew serve delicious chicken tikka masala. He was adamant at first, stating that he’s not used to spicy food, but he relented after she explained that unlike the authentic Indian curry, the British version was far sweeter to accommodate European’s taste bud.

Being in Muggle restaurant had surely hindered their conversation, they couldn’t talk about Charm or Transfiguration like they usually did before. They’d managed to do a little catch up on what they did in the past years though, vaguely of course. For the passerby, it would sound like Hermione was working in Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs while Viktor was an athlete – possibly a rugby player based on his build – making career in US league. All things considered, it had been a pleasant outing. By the end of their meal, she even thought that they would become pen pals again after this.

Until Viktor invited her to dine, a formal dinner.

She’s not that dense and naive to not noticing his intention. However, even when Ginny was very certain that what Viktor wanted from her wasn’t a friendship but more, she always vehemently denied it. She insisted today was a casual meet-up between friend, NOT a date. She’s lucky, because if it’s not for her training camp, Ginny would doll her up just like back then, using force if necessary.

She stopped on her track when she saw a figure standing outside her flat. A familiar shade of red hair, but not her flatmate.

“Ginny is in training camp in Wales,” she stated blandly without ceremony.

Ron looked up, startled by her unannounced arrival. He threw her a blank stare so she repeated her last sentence.

“I know that,” he said. “I’m waiting for you.”

Hermione gave a brisk nod in acknowledgement, then walked pass him to the door. She hold the door as she entered, moulded a brief smile onto her face. “Fancy a cuppa?”

Recognising the olive branch offered to him, he followed her inside. He went to the sofa instead of to the kitchen though, but Hermione didn’t comment on it. A little bit distance might be good for now, there’s nothing obstructing her view to him while she prepared tea in silence anyway. They would talk, but later.

She brought two cup of tea to her living room, one for her and one for him, already made the way he liked it.

Ron nodded in thanks, watching her taking her seat on the armchair. “You’re home early,” he remarked, breaking the silence.

“Are you expecting me to stay the night?” she responded, sipping her tea calmly.

Between the two of them, empty chit-chat of pleasantry had never existed and never would be.

“Hermione, I ... I’m just ...”

“Jealous?” she cut-in sharply. “Why? You once said you’re fine if I date Martin, so why it’s a problem if it’s Viktor?

“Because it’s Krum! Arrington was not the one who took you the Ball.”

She glared at him incredulously. “You’re still upset because he noticed me first before you did?”

“I’m really sorry, okay,” he pleaded, hurried and desperate. “I know I have no say on who you can or can’t date, but seeing you with Krum reminded me of my past mistakes. What I did was uncalled for and apparently I still do that. I regret it, I’m ashamed of myself. So much for growing up, huh?”

Hearing it, she softened. This was Ron after all, exactly like how she knew him. He would make mistake, but he’d realise it soon after and apologised. Then, as always, she would forgive him. Except, this time she still had one more thing weighing her mind.

“Please be honest, Ron. Are you still waiting for me?” she queried, tried to sound firm even though she was wary with his answer.

He furrowed his brows. “You mean do I still in love with you?” he reiterated. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I like how we are now. Hermione, first and foremost, you are my best friend. I don’t want anything to change it, so I promise I’ll suppress my feeling to minimum anytime you bring Krum to our gathering.”

His word was sincere. At the very least, she knew that he would try.

“I’m not dating him,” she confessed. “In fact, I don’t think I will date anyone in near future.”

“Why?” he spluttered cautiously, a combination of surprised and curious.

Hermione reclined her back on the chair, sighing despondently. “You see how busy I am, I don’t have time or energy to date anyone. More so, he said he’ll continue to play in America, away from the scrutiny in Europe, and even without my work, long distance relationship is hard enough to maintain.”

They both knew that if she really wanted it, she would do it. Hermione Granger was a stubborn witch who would not give up easily without trying first and since she hated failure, she would only try harder when things got more difficult. It was left unsaid though. Actually what she’d told Ron was the same reason she gave to Viktor.

When Viktor invited her to dinner – in returned for her hospitality of showing him London, he said – Hermione realised that she couldn’t evade this subject anymore. She dreaded this, but if her (and Ginny’s) suspicion was right, it’s not fair to lead him on. Asking him if it would be a dinner between friends was her last straw of hope that she wouldn’t need to reject him, but of course he had to say that he wished it to be more.

Career and distance were her excuses, even though they both knew that it would be easy for Viktor to Portkey to England anytime he wanted. Nonetheless, they just met after so long of no contact, there’s barely enough base to build a relationship. She’s a Gryffindor, but it didn’t mean that she would be willing to jump head first in everything. She’d agreed to rekindle their correspondence though, while in her mind she’s not sure what she would write if she’s the one who wrote first.

“Well, too bad. I’m thinking that with your help, I may be able to add him in my collection of my famous friends,” Ron joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Thank you for taking the girls on trip by the way. Amy’s really happy, she keeps talking about your trip this morning at the shop. But why you never take me to that flying wheel? Louisa mentioned about watching the city from above, similar to her Waffle Tower in Paris.”

“_Eiffel_ Tower and it’s _Ferris_ wheel, not flying wheel," she corrected him. "Well, maybe we all can go there again sometimes.”

His grin faded as his face turned serious again. “Hermione, whoever you date, I promise you’ll always have me. Anytime you need, you can always depend on me.”

A wash of tender feeling spread in her chest, warmed her and induced a tremulous smile on her lips. But she didn’t want to look sappy, so she retorted playfully instead, “Oh, really? You sure it’s not the other way around?”

He huffed, pursing his lips. “Fine, I might have depended on you more than you on me in the past, but that was at school. Now that we’re adult, I’m sure the table will turn soon.”

They shared light-hearted cackle, ready to move on from their latest disagreement. Even as it waned, their lips still curled upwards in a crooked smile.

Following a sip of her already cold tea, she said, “Just be there, be my Ron. That will be enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banqueting Hall is open to public (no access to balcony though). The entrance fee is £6.5, a bit pricey for ‘just a large hall’ but it’s free if you’re member of Historic Royal Palaces or if you have London Pass. Although considering how hard/expensive it is to preserve old painting, the price make sense, especially since it receives no funding from the British Government or the Crown.


	21. Discovery

For many, having less workload was enjoyable. For Hermione, she preferred to always have something to keep her mind occupied. She found pleasure in solving puzzle or unravelling riddles. It kept her brain sharp, ready to be used anytime, and more importantly it allowed her to grow. Therefore between her works, she would make sure to entertain herself with some personal projects. Currently, it was the Gate.

No, she had no desire to attain the ultimate magic or something like that, not in the slightest. Her main reason was pure academic. Albeit this time, very uncharacteristic for her, she didn’t give herself a deadline or even make a timetable. It was an interesting subject hence she made a point that she would enjoy this research, especially now that she had too much free time to spare.

That was not the reason of her slow progress though. As leaves shed its colours and season changed, not much could be said about her new little project. She never expected it to be easy, but for the first time in her life, she felt lost in her research.

Even with her full access to Ministry library, she found nothing about the Gate. As of now, Hordwill’s _Revisiting Magical Lore_ was her only reference and nowhere had it mentioned its possible location. She couldn’t even find any other text that mentioned about a land rich with magic. Even though there were many books retelling the life and legacy of Merlin or Morgan le Fay, very little had been written about Avalon aside that it was a place where Morgan le Fay resided, but nothing about where it possibly was. But just like House-Elf bond, she suspected either it was just less well documented as it was deemed unimportant or it might be intentionally been kept secret and only known in certain circle like the case of Elder Wand.

Interestingly, she had more luck in The London Library.

Yes, this time she broadened her research to Muggle literature. If certain part of what written about Merlin in Muggle’s Arthurian legend had some truth in it, why not their other legends? Furthermore Muggle had many tales about magic. Too many in fact.

Almost every nation in the world had it; myths and legends where the hero was taken or stranded to unknown land inhabited by magical being. Too many to choose and she had no pointer which to pick since each had something that resembled a certain part of the Gate as described in Rendtorff’s account.

There’s an option to start with Britain since it would be impractical for her to travel around the Globe like Rendtorff and also backed with the assumption that since Rendtorff heard the story when he was in British Isles so it might be there (and not in Ireland or some remote island somewhere in North Sea). Even with that consideration, if she listed sacred wizarding sites and places that Muggle considered to be ‘magical’, the list was still long.

Which brought her to the second quandary: how she could determine that it was the correct place?

As of today, there’s no known method to detect ley line. Witches and wizards could feel it – some even were more sensitive to sense it than the other – but she needed more accurate method if she wanted to draw a ley line map to determine the source. If only she could find a way to do it, it would be a breakthrough for her magical signature project since considering it came from Earth, ley line supposedly to be ‘pure magic’ untainted by spell or user.

Having known that, she wasn’t ashamed to admit that she needed help. At this rate with her doing everything on her own from scratch like now, she would be very lucky if she could make substantial progress before she turned 90!

She tried to arrange another audience with Galvin Ollivander. Unfortunately, her (borrowed ministry’s) owl returned with negative response. House-Elf business could no longer be used as an excuse, while barging in uninvited and cornering him to talk would only lead to animosity.

Therefore when this morning Ronan got emergency missive from his heavily pregnant wife informing that his two children were in St Mungo’s for some fiasco of accidental magic, she quickly offered to visit Hogwarts in his place. Some persuasion was needed before he relented, considering she still had two more weeks on her punishment.

Somehow Fieldwake or Hickman (or both) had heard about her new stint of house hunting for abandoned House-Elf. Afraid of potential repeat of ‘House-Elf Bond scandal’ which tainted their reputation amongst Pure-blood socialite circle, on the basis that she was abusing her position, disciplinary action had been taken. No field work or house visit duty for the next four weeks and she was relegated to paperwork and filing duties.

It was obviously a bullying. Even her co-workers – including Ronan – realised that. 

For a start, their office was named Office for House-Elf _Relocation_, and according to her dictionary, ‘relocation’ meant ‘_moving to a new place and establishing new home’_. Just because it hadn’t been done in decades, it didn’t mean that it’s forbidden, especially since nobody changed their office’s name into Office for House-Elf Registry. Nonetheless, protesting would not bring her anywhere so she took her ‘punishment’ with no fuss.

But the most pressing reason was aside from her all House-Elf office personnel were occupied and rescheduling the visit would be out of question. McGonagall was very adamant that except for emergency, every appointment had to be arranged weeks if not months in advance as to not disturbing school term. Even Kingsley – the Minister of Magic and her fellow Order of Merlin member – wouldn’t get a pass to saunter Hogwarts hall as he pleased.

This was Hermione’s chance to visit Hogwarts now as oppose to at summer like McGonagall’s reply on their last correspondence when she asked permission to do another research for her magical signature project there. Hogwarts ground was top in her list, there’s several points in the description of the Gate that made her think of Forbidden Forest.

Thus with the conviction that the report would be under his name and worst case if Fieldwake or Hickman knew, she had no doubt that Kingsley would be on her side if she reported it to him, Ronan finally acquiesced. So here she was, one hour later, hiking up the hill leading to the west wing of the castle.

After the war, security around Hogwarts had been tightened considerably. Other than Anti-Apparation in place, all fireplaces in the castle had been blocked except one in Headmaster office that was connected only with the one in Minister of Magic office – only for Floo call, not for travel. So for not distracting students, during school term guest would enter the castle via a secret passage at the opposite of Entrance Hall. Only Hogwarts staff could open it, usually it’s always Filch. She had Neville once, but never would she expect him.

“Professor Firenze?”

“Miss Granger.” He bowed his head in greeting.

“The appointment was supposed to be for O’Brien, but ...”

“I know,” he interrupted her sentence calmly. “That’s why I’m here.”

To date, Hermione still didn’t believe in Divination and since she had given up that class, she barely knew anything about him to construct an opinion. However as a staff in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she knew not to underestimate Centaur’s ability.

She want to ask further, but he already opened the door and gestured, “After you.”

Walking in silence through dimly lit and empty hallway, she became more conscious of her surroundings. Now that she paid close attention, she could feel the tingling of magic around her. She wondered how she had never noticed it in the past. It was so apparent that she swore she could feel it brushing her skin, making her shiver. Either it was from centuries of magic practised inside the castle or coming from the land where the castle stood, she couldn’t determine but somehow she knew that if she tried to draw magic for a spell, it would be easier to do and more powerful than if she did in other place.

An impulse to follow through on her thought sparked within her that the next second she found herself unconsciously fiddling her wand Firenze stared at her with a penetrating gaze, observing her. Both of them were standing still in the middle of the corridor.

“I ...” she started to explain what she’s about to do but stopped at the first word because the Divination professor just turned his back and continued his track.

She blinked twice, bewildered. _What was that?_

Although she knew it’s not a good idea to offend a Centaur, but she was so confused to the point it began to grate her nerve. Half running, extra two legs sure made different, she finally caught up and halted him.

“Professor,” Noticing that her tone was higher than necessary, she quickly added, “I mean no offence but you said you’re expecting me, may I know why? Do you have something you want to tell me?”

He offered her an inexplicable smile, nothing that betrayed whatever beneath it.

“The kitchen, Miss Granger,” he calmly said.

That’s certainly not what she anticipated but he’s right, they had in fact arrived in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit.

For a minute Hermione pondered should she press on for answer with the risk of angering him (and maybe McGonagall if she heard that she had offended one of her staff). Fortunately, she was spared from making that decision.

“You will not find what you’re seeking here, Miss Granger,” he declared suddenly. He eyed her with the same inscrutable gaze as if he could see through her mind. And he might as well do.

As strange as it was, she knew that he knew her plan today. How he knew, she wouldn’t question it. She learnt to accept that there’s a lot of things she didn’t know about magical being so she’d just take it as it was. However, she considered this as an opening and she wouldn't let it slide.

“And do you know where it is, Professor? Is it in the forest?”

He gave her another enigmatic smile. “No one has the knowledge to answer it, Miss Granger. Some secret is better to remain as secret,” he replied. And in the same flat tone he added, “I believe Argus Filch will escort you out after you finish here. Good day, Miss Granger.”

Before she could form any response, he disappeared into the darkness.

Hermione couldn’t decide whether he was warning her to stop poking her nose on the Gate or helping her by informing that there’s nothing here so she better looked somewhere else instead of wasting her time focusing too much on Hogwarts.

It was well known that magical being could sense ley line better than witches and wizards. They also had more well guarded secret too. So if Seelie knew something about the Gate, who’s to say that Centaur didn’t? Then again, they always had trust issue with wizardkind – which in many cases not without good reason – so to consider it as a warning was not too farfetched.

She mulled it over throughout her time in the kitchen, trying to decipher what was behind his words. It completely distracted her from her original task but in her defence, there’s actually not much to be done. This visit was merely a formality, even without surveillance McGonagall would never mistreat House-Elf.

In the end, she figured that Firenze would gain nothing in lying to her. She decided that he’s telling the truth and would heed his advice.

Filch wasn’t outside when she exited from behind the painting. It’s nobody’s fault, she was – rather unusual – early in her task, only did what she needed to do because what the Elves said when she asked them about ley line didn’t help at all (“_We just do, Miss_”). Wandering around the castle looking for him was not an option, she wouldn’t risk overstepping her welcome, and although she knew the way, but she couldn’t open the door. So wait she did.

“Oh dear, is it Hermione Granger?”

A call of her name jolted her from her reverie and her heart skipped a beat when she saw a semitransparent pearly white head on the wall. His body followed shortly until finally the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower floated before her in his usual doublet and large ruff.

“Oh hello, Nick,” she greeted him cheerily as a cover for her rapid beating heart.

It’s been awhile. To be greeted by a ghost was no longer an everyday occurrence for her, so she should be forgiven if she was a bit freaked out by a sudden appearance of the spectral entity in a dark hallway.

“What are you doing here? Are you lost?”

She shook her head. “No, just waiting for Filch to escort me. I was from the kitchen, routine House-Elf visit.”

“Ah yes, you’re not student anymore, are you. I thought you were cursed by that Malfoy brat again. I saw the cat not far from here a moment ago so he should be here soon.”

Even though his second sentence sounded like an afterthought, but that was what caught Hermione’s attention if mainly for the name.

“Malfoy? Were you saying that Draco Malfoy has cursed me?”

“Oh, don’t you remember? Seems like only yesterday, that time when I found you under spell near Trophy Room,” he answered, concern filled his voice. “After what he did to the former Headmaster, I cannot fathom why he was allowed to return here. And look what he did to you. Never let your guard down with a snake.” He didn’t even try to conceal his distaste when he said it.

Actually she remembered it well. Although in her memory it was one of her episode, not of her being cursed. She could be wrong though. “What did he do?”

“I caught him lurking in the dark following you,” he recounted. “You were walking in a daze but luckily I found you in time. It looked like Confundus, but since it’s him I will not dismiss the Unforgivable. He even threatened that I better watch you or else something worse will befallen on you. The audacity!”

Oh, this was surprising. Not about Sir Nicholas’ claim that Draco had cursed her, but the fact that apparently he had known about her ‘sleepwalking’ back then yet he never mentioned it. Sure he had teased her about her tendency to space out, but he’d never pushed further when she denied it. Even when she confessed at the Balcony, he didn’t make any comment.

And was it the only time he followed her? Why he hadn’t approached her, instead he made Sir Nicholas misunderstand him like that? As she recalled, they’re already on speaking term that time so she wouldn’t hex him or something.

“He did?” she prodded.

“Yes, but he never had a chance because I kept following you after that. We Gryffindor always have each other’s back. Not everywhere of course, I didn’t follow you when you’re in dorm or library or such, I respect your privacy. It’s only when I found you walk alone and I had nothing else to do,” he mumbled the last part. Still, he looked proud of his action.

She smiled politely. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service, Miss. It’s my privilege to be able to offer my assistance to Gryffindor younglings, especially Harry Potter’s best friend,” he bowed. With a fond smile on his lips he added, “He really makes our House proud, doesn’t he. Do you still meet him often? I’d like to extend an invitation to my next Deathday Party, if he’s not busy of course.”

Mainly for courtesy, she said, “Err, I’ll pass it to him.” But second later, she realised that she shouldn’t give him an empty promise so she hurriedly rectified, “Although I can’t promise that he’ll be able to attend. He’s no longer a student, remember? So even if he can spare his time, you know how strict the Headmistress can be in letting non-student enter the castle.”

“Oh yes, of course. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Seeing his dejected face, guilt crept in. Even if Harry managed to slip it between his schedule, it would be so wrong to ask (more like guilt trip) him to attend. They’d been in one and to be the only living being among Ghosts in a ghost party was far from fun.

For once, she was happy to see Filch coming.

***

With a wave of her wand she erased the diagram on the board and gathered her belonging manually by hand as one by one participant of today class left training room. Of course it would be faster and easier if she used magic to pack her stuff, but this way she could make sure that she had everything.

The research on magical signature under Auror Office was officially closed for now, further development would depend on demand from field, and training began. The class consisted of basic training on Tuesday, taught by Martin, and the follow up training by Hermione on Thursday – the Improper Use of Magic Office couldn’t spare Nigel this month. Only Auror, Investigator, and Law Enforcement Patrol were required to enrol. To avoid disturbing their work, they were free to choose when to attend as it would be available for a month. After that, the course would be included in the regular training for new recruit.

Hermione caught a movement out of the corner of her eyes. She could guess who it was, without lifting her gaze from the papers she said, “Any question, Harry?”

There’s no reply so she looked up at her friend properly and was taken aback by how serious his expression was. She had noticed that throughout the class Harry had been eyeing her oddly, as if trying to discern something, but she’d assumed that he was just focusing on her lecture.

“What? Something wrong?”

Harry flicked his wand to close the door, casting _Muffliato_ around them, and sat on the desk in front of her, sending a piercing glare directly to her eyes.

“I heard from someone in Patrol Office that three days ago Skeeter filed a report, accusing you of underhanded attack,” he stated plainly. “Do you have something you want to tell me, Hermione?”

Her hands stopped moving, Harry got her full attention now.

“I’m sorry, say again?”

“Oh come on, Hermione, I know you,” he chided her. She recognised this Harry, he already reached a conclusion and he’d do whatever it took to prove that he was right. Trying to refute him would be a hopeless effort, he’d only believe when he found out the fact himself, so she let him carry on.

“Skeeter will not go to Law Enforcement for something silly, she will just attack you with her article. And I know how bad it was lately so I’m not surprised if you’re upset ... no, furious with her.”

She scoffed loudly, didn’t even try to hide her grimace. Of course, _that blasted article_.

It’s partly her mistake, she’d been caught off guard. Somehow Skeeter had gotten a whiff about her meeting with Viktor last month and because it’s Muggle London, she’d been careless. She had not done anything as precaution like she always did when she’s within magical community. Who would have thought that Skeeter would go so far to Muggle world to chase scoop.

Next thing she knew, she had made the cover of Witch Weekly few days later with bold title of _Golden Girl’s Last Victim: The Whole Country Has to Pay the Price!_

Four pages spread with pictures; mostly of her, then Harry, Viktor, Ron, and _Neville_. Several from Hogwarts days, couple of their past lunch outings, complete with her individual photo between Harry’s and Viktor’s. There’s even one unmoving photo of Viktor and her in Indian restaurant with the headline photo was one in Charing Cross with her releasing their handshake and turned around as Viktor watching her left with a longing gaze.

The article itself chronicled how she had played two Triwizard champions when she’s still 14 (_nope, she’s 15 back then_) then after Bulgarian Seeker returned to his country, she set her eyes to the youngest Weasley (_that would be Ginny then_). Alas, the Chosen One finally had come to his sense and left her for the gorgeous Harpies’ Seeker (_okay, technically she’d played Seeker couple of times_) so shifted her target to another war hero – the statement was written next to a photo of her walking side by side, laughing, with Neville in Hogsmead (_seriously, had she been stalking her this whole time?!_).

According to that article, apparently she still held Viktor in her clutch which led him distracted with her non-appearance in Quidditch Final and cost him the Cup. Then as the final blow, she’d dumped him, left him devastated to the point that he decided to quit. In conclusion, she was the reason of Bulgarian loss in Quidditch World Cup and also Viktor Krum’s resignation from the team afterward.

No wonder she got barrage of Howlers and cursed letter nonstop for two weeks before the Communication Office granted her request to incinerate all owl post directed to her for the whole month (_No, she didn’t care if there’s important letter got mix there_). She had made enough spectacles in her office and Hickman was very angry with the commotion (another reason why she didn’t fight when she was ‘punished’ with her House-Elf stint).

Luckily she already diverted all her owl post to the Ministry. If any of it arrived in her flat, not only she would have to deal with wizarding Law Enforcement for potentially breaking the Statue of Secrecy, but also her neighbours for the noise or worse, Muggle pest control – and maybe police.

“So you’re saying since Skeeter has a _penchant_ for writing about me in her hogwash she claimed as journalism, it automatically makes me as the prime suspect for whatever happened to her? Harry, I thought you are my friend!” she surmised condescendingly, sounding between hurt and upset.

Her acting must be really bad because it didn’t deter Harry one bit.

“I am!” he asserted firmly. “Which is why I know very well _how far_ you can go. I need to know what you did so I can think of a way on how to protect you.”

And he pressed on, “What you did to Skeeter back then in our 4th year was a crime, you technically kidnapped and blackmailing her. She can’t do anything about it now since it will also expose that she was unregistered Animagus for awhile or of her illegal methods in getting her scoop, but that different matter.”

He folded his arms on his chest and gave her a look, urging her to confess. But Hermione returned to her packing calmly, igniting an annoyed growl from the Auror. Taking pity on her friend, she decided to humour him.

“Did I?” she mused coyly. “You mean when I caught a strange looking bug, a bettle, and put it in a jar because I found it interesting and released it at the end of the term because my parents wouldn’t let me to keep it? My department dealing with magical creature, Harry, and I don’t think I ever read anything that states it as illegal.”

Closing her bag, she lifted her eyes to his and stated, “And if you mean about your interview with Skeeter on our fifth year, you needed to tell Voldemort’s return to wizarding world and she needed a scoop. What I did was arranging the meeting so both of you could get what you want. Simple as that, no blackmailing has occurred.”

“Hermione!” He gave her his best Auror glare that was meant to be intimidating but instead only made her burst out a hearty laugh.

“Oh, how the table has turned.” At Harry’s confused look, she stifled her laugh and expounded, “You know, back then it was always me who reprimanded you and Ron not to break the rule. And look how it is now, you lecturing me about breaking the law? Oh, the wonder of adulthood.”

Harry’s mouth was twitching, amused, but he quickly schooled his face back to stern one. “Don’t try to distract me. Now, tell me what did you do?”

She heaved a resigned sigh. “Are you asking me as Auror or as my friend? Because if you haven’t noticed it yet, we are in a training room belong to Auror Office, located in Department of Magical Law Enforcement. So right now, are we having a friendly conversation or are you interrogating me?”

In truth, she indeed did something to Skeeter. Technically, it probably even could be called as attack too.

Working part time with an Investigator really had its perk. It was so easy to coax information about magic restraining band from Martin by casually slipping it when they’re brainstorming on magical signature. And once she got the necessary clues, her full access into ministry library had brought her everything she wanted to know.

The enchantment was rather complicated but doable, and she had managed to embedded it on a simple copper bracelet. The original plan was to send it to Skeeter, she had not though how she could trick her to wear it though. Then the break in had happened and she was too caught up with her research on the Gate that anything about Skeeter had degraded to an afterthought until she published that article.

By that point, she even had considered to use an Imperius to make Skeeter wearing the bracelet. Unfortunately, she hadn’t need to take that risk. Unexpectedly, opportunity had presented itself to her.

That evening when she had stopped by at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, she had seen Skeeter at a cafe across the shop from the window, slightly hidden by the ornament tree – possibly stalking her for another photo of her and Ron. As if someone had turned the switch on in her brain, she got an idea. It was risky and normally she never felt comfortable with a hasty plan, but she had the bracelet in her bag and this might be her only chance.

She had left the shop from the back door and cast Disillusionment Charm on herself. It’s payback time. _Let’s see how she fare to be the one being stalked_.

Lucky for her, the cafe had been rather vacant so it’s easy to slip in without bumping anyone. Skeeter had also been too busy watching the joke shop’s door that she didn’t take a notice her standing – _disillusioned_ – behind her or when she tipped a drop of Sleeping Draught on her tea. It would only make her fall asleep for less than 15 minutes, but Hermione only needed one. In fact, it had taken longer to wait for Skeeter to sip her tea.

Few seconds later, Skeeter’s head had dropped onto the table and seamlessly Hermione put the bracelet on Skeeter’s wrist. As planned, it automatically had fastened then taken the colour and texture of her wrist as if it wasn’t there. The reporter would never notice that it existed nor would she know why she suddenly couldn’t Apparate or turned into her Animagus form or performed any other complicated spell.

On the other hand if anyone miraculously could link it to her, unless they gave her Veritaserum (which was illegal without her consent), Hermione could always provide reasonable excuse for every spell she had cast for the last two months in case the authority would check her wand. The only magic that could be traced back to her was if anyone managed to crack her enchantment on the bracelet. Even in that case it would still be hard to prove that it was her because their research on magical signature had not reached that level yet.

“What was she accused me with by the way? Shouldn’t I be summoned for questioning by Patrol Office instead of you?” she asked conversationally. It’s an honest curiosity, no pretending.

“That’s the thing, she didn’t want to give the details. She didn’t even have any proof. So they dropped her complaint right after she left, nobody has taken her seriously. Her reputation with lies is quite well known after all.”

“Yet you still coming up with that accusation,” she interjected. “I’m hurt you think of me like that, Harry.”

Harry groaned. He raked his hand through his hair in frustration, making it messier than it was. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get in trouble for someone like her,” he reasoned.

“Oh please, as if she can do worse than writing that rubbish,” she groused mockingly. “But thank you anyway, I’ll keep it in mind, stay alert in case she thinks of accosting me at empty street.”

He let his hand fell to his side, finally admitting defeat. “Just be careful, okay. Don’t get into trouble because of her, she’s not worth it.”

His pleading tone twisted her heart, she knew he meant well so she nodded in concession. The effect was quick, his facial muscle gradually loosened up and his mouth morphed into a crocked grin. However, it didn’t stay for long because Hermione decided to drop another bomb.

“By the way, if you still don’t find any lead on your ‘hooded bogeyman’, maybe you’ll want to check the area around Hogwarts,” she informed him flippantly.

“Hermione, I told you–“

Her forefinger was raised in an instant, shushing him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested to join your hero club. I refused Kingsley’s offer to join DMLE, remember?” she reminded him. “No thanks, I have more than enough near death experience to last a lifetime. As I told you before, I’m curious about the Gate. That’s all.”

She realised it was a low blow. They both knew that her friendship with Harry play a big part on why she’d been in several dangerous situations in the past, something that he always felt guilty about. It’s effective to shut him so he’d listen, it also made her feel bad though.

“I never blame you, okay. Back then I made my own decision knowing the risk and consequences, it’s my choice. None of it is your fault,” she assured him in a quiet yet firm tone. She reached his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. In a firm but playful tone to lighten the mood, she said, “You know me, I always want to know everything. On my research about the Gate, I find something interesting. Thus being a good citizen I am, it’s my duty to share this information to the authority and conveniently, I happen to have a friend who happens to be one.”

He exhaled loudly, a wry grin was back on his feature. “So, what’s in Hogwarts?”

“Remember when I told you that it was said that the area around the Gate is abundant with magic, because it’s some kind of source of ley line?”

He nodded.

“It’s well known that magical creature is more sensitive in sensing ley line, in fact they’re attracted to it. And guess what, the place which has the densest population of magical creature in Britain is Forbidden Forest. If what Ollivander said about drawing magic from the land is true, it could be one of the reasons why the Founders built Hogwarts there, because the land is rich of magic.

“We also know that Voldemort had particular interest with Hogwarts. Was it really for sentimental reason that he thought of it as his home? This is Voldemort we’re talking about. And Rookwood is a Death Eater, he worked in Department of Mystery under his order, right? Voldemort knew about Elder Wand, so what if he also knew about the Gate and that’s the reason he was targeting Hogwarts?”

Harry didn’t respond immediately and only stared at her, contemplating what she had just told him.

“You’re speculating,” he noted. “But if it’s true ... Bugger, I should have broken that wand! Immortality, unbeatable wand and access to the greatest source of magic, was he trying to become god or what?!”

His hair was unsalvageable as he scratched his head furiously and Hermione knew that it’s better to wait until he finished venting his frustration.

“So you think it’s in Hogwarts ground?”

“I don’t think so. I was in Hogwarts two weeks ago and I met Firenze there. He didn’t say it directly, but he’s kind of alluding that it’s not in Hogwarts ground.”

A frown appeared between his brows. “Firenze? The Centaur?”

She huffed. “Just so you know, I still don’t care about Divination but it’s not about predicting future. He used to live in Forbidden Forest and just like Seelie, Centaur is known to be a guardian of woodland. They know things we don’t know and I believe that he’s saying the truth.”

“There’s a lot of ifs in your theory, Hermione. It doesn’t sound like you,” he remarked lightly.

“Yes , I know,” she whined, letting her dissatisfaction show. “I can’t even find any solid clue that it’s in Britain. It would be nice if I can see what Rookwood stole. After all he enacted an elaborated plan to break into the deepest level of the Ministry building to take it, there’s must be something important there, a crucial clue.”

“You do realise that even if I can retrieve it, I’m not allowed to show it to you, right?”

She smirked. “Then I just need to get it before you did then.”

“Hermione ...”

It didn’t sound like a warning, more like concern, and she appreciated it. But same as before, the irony didn’t escape her, she giggled. Harry’s annoyed scowl didn’t deter her, she only stopped because the door was opened.

“Can I help you?”

She didn’t know why she said it, it’s just the first thing that came up in her mind when she saw him. She barely managed to stop herself from mentioning his name and Harry would demand a long explanation from her if she did.

Considering she went to DMLE at least once a week and he was Harry’s partner so of course their path had crossed many times, but it wasn’t same as their meeting at the Balcony. She missed their debate. There’s something in her debate with Draco that she felt missing in her similar discussion with Martin. With Draco, there always be some snarky sceptical remarks here and there, but she would come up with better rebuttal.

More so she wanted to hear what he thought about her magical signature project. Looking back, it’s rather embarrassing that she even tried to bait him by quizzing him in her class. For people who saw, it looked like she was trying to taunt him, especially in how she had referred him by his full name – calling him by first name would only attract question and falling back to last name felt like she’s losing a battle, hence full name. Alas, he didn’t take her bait, his answers was never more than five words.

Apparently the Balcony-Draco was a limited edition.

“Are you done with him,” he said in flat tone which didn’t sound like a question at all, leaning against the doorframe leisurely.

“Oh, yes.” She picked her bag and slung it onto her shoulder. “He’s all yours.”

With her hack on Harry, in a pure whim she tipped her head slightly as she passed Draco, a lopsided smile tugged at the corner of her lips. His only reaction was a quirk of his right eyebrow but it could be her imagination, it’s only for seconds and she didn’t stop to check.

***

Draco’s eyes followed her as she left. Even only for few seconds, she managed to surprise him with her smile. It was a very welcome reprieve. How long had it been since the last time he saw it? He would love to see more if it possible, but now was not the time yet. There’s still a lot to be done.

Once he’s sure that Granger didn’t show any indication of turning back, he entered the room. He closed the door using his leg and locked it over his shoulder while walking towards his partner.

“Just because she frequents this department doesn’t mean that she’s part of the team, Potter,” he told him, sounding bore and condescending.

“I know that, Malfoy.”

He sneered, showing his disbelieve. “Everyone knows how fast you’ll run to her, crying for help. It’s not a secret who’s the brain between you three, but this is not Hogwarts, Potter.”

“Get to the point!” Potter snarled through gritted teeth as if trying to look menacing.

As if it would work on him, it’s funny to see his effort though. Even after all this time, it’s still so easy to aggravate the Boy Wonder and here he thought that Potter was finally immune after the daily dose of his taunt. Or he was already in bad mood, a quarrel with Granger perhaps? Alas, it’s not the time or place to play so he took out pack of parchments from his bag and tossed it onto the table.

Without a second thought, Potter grabbed and untied it. Draco was amazed be the unsuspecting nature of Gryffindor. Slytherin would never touch anything that was given to them without assessing it first, even if it was given by their own flesh and blood.

“Interesting. Boomslang skin, Bicorn horn ....” he muttered as he leafed through the notes. “Seems like they’re in need for Polyjuice. And they don’t even stay with one supplier, purchasing in small amount here and there so nothing look amiss.”

So Potter wasn’t stupid. Draco was almost impressed by how quick he picked up the clues. _Almost_. But again, as the poster boy of Auror Office, he should have some brain in his head to not become an embarrassment of the department.

“Hogwarts?” Potter pushed a map towards him, demanding an explanation.

“Here.” Draco tapped his finger on an area several inches from Hogsmeade. “There’s an unconfirmed sighting of Crabbe Sr few days ago in Hogsmeade, most likely they’re close by.”

“Hogsinbag Moor? This place is cursed, nobody can go in there.”

The land was indeed cursed, but he was surprised Potter knew. Nowadays only few knew that the place exist mostly amongst Pure-bloods, for most it was as if the place was unplottable since whoever went there would never be seen again. Fewer knew the story behind the curse or what happened after.

What happened was a story of inheritance dispute that ended with bloodbath, between the first born son of a mistress and the eldest son born from a marriage bonded in blood ritual. It was why most Pure-blood Heir would only have dalliance after a son had been born; in some family the first born son’s claim was absolute, didn’t matter if he’s illegitimate. It became complicated when the family also had blood-contract with the land, how the union between the parents later became an essential factor. And that’s how House of Heldgram met their end.

A duel between two claimants had ended with both losing their life. When their blood spilled into the land, what had been a blessing from the land had later turned into curse. The land had been tainted and for that, substantial sacrifice must be made to appease it.

“Of course you can, you just need to pay the price, Potter,”

“How?”

“You don’t want to know,” he replied dismissively which hadn’t been taken well by Potter.

“Malfoy, I don’t have time to play guessing game with you.”

Potter was definitely in bad mood today. Now he’s very curious what had Granger done to him. He always assumed that it was Potter who’s tried Granger’s patience and not the other way around, seemed his assumption was incorrect then.

“I presume you know about Heldgram family, but I’m sure you don’t know that there’s the third son. He survived and later started a new branch of family, the first generation of Pucey.” He paused for a moment for dramatic effect just to annoy his partner, then continued, “There’s a reason why the Puceys kept their connection to Heldgram a secret, the same reason why nobody see Hebertus Pucey for the past seven months.”

His eyes widened. “You mean they made him a human sacrifice to access the property?”

“Well, the good news is they’ll need to keep him alive considering there’s no report of other Pucey missing. The bad news ... just don’t try to imagine how his condition would be right now.”

“Someone has to be assigned as surveillance there then.”

Draco frowned. “What make you think you have to wait until they come out? No more Gryffindor bravery, Potter? Recklessly charging in like a drunken mad?”

“I’m not you, Malfoy. I will not sacrifice anyone just because it’s necessary,” he responded flatly, seemed to finally have enough with his goading and ready to fight back.

Draco didn’t flinch and remained impassive. “And here I thought your comprehension has increased. You’re not even listening, Potter,” he drawled and shook his head in disappointment. “Can you picture them coming and going in a group dragging a body, say, twice a day?”

However, he flinched at his reaction; mouth opened in undignified manner as wide as his eyes as realisation dawn on him. At least he didn’t have to explain further, he didn’t think he had enough patience for that. How Granger survive this was beyond him. If there’s any good quality in Crabbe and Goyle, it was that they never asked question or demanded explanation.

Just to make sure that he got the memo, he voiced it out loud, “They leave the door open, Potter. We don’t even need to knock.”

This time Potter didn’t respond, he returned his attention to the documents instead, flipping through the rest of the documents. Once he satisfied with whatever he saw there, he looked up straight to him. His stare was surprisingly calm that Draco couldn’t help to be wary.

“How did you get all of this, Malfoy? You already smuggled Nott out of the country, right?”

“And your point?” he countered indignantly. Theo was indeed no longer in Britain, leaving the country by Muggle train heading to the continent. I had nothing to do with Potter, not that he anticipated him knowing. “His obligation is towards me, not the Ministry,”

Potter answered his defiant glare with patronising gaze. “I cannot use questionable source for investigation without some explanation,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I have my way. Nothing illegal so safe your breath before you start preaching,” he glowered caustically. “Just hand it to Robards. As long as you don’t mention my name, nobody will question you. Make use of your Chosen One title.”

Typical stubborn Gryffindor, he pressed on, still in his even tone. “Why? What’s in it for you, Malfoy?”

“Oh, just think, Potter,” Draco groaned. “Considering that at least one of them wants me dead, it will benefit me more if they’re locked than if they’re free. And I know for certain that unlike you, or so you just claimed, your revered Minister and Head Auror are not above of sacrificing me. The sooner this mess is over, the better for me. And of course, I have to make sure that I’ll be unscathed in the process.”

This was not a game he could play himself. He had handed Potter all necessary cards, now let’s see if he would be able to play it well.


	22. Meddle

It was drizzle in Diagon Alley, but downpour in other part of London.

Hermione wasn’t quick enough to cast Water Repellent Charm when they materialised in front of 12 Grimmauld Place so they were drenched in seconds. But her movement was rather hindered with Harry’s – in his delirious state – hand limping on her left shoulder, even though most of his weight was supported by Ron. In times like this, she could see the benefit of Floo travel.

She let his hand to fall from her shoulder to open the door and went in ahead of the two men, whirled her wand to dry their clothes once they’re inside. She had given up telling Harry to lock his door months ago. When there’re only six people including him who could find and see this house, what’s the need of locking it, or so he had argued. More so he believed neither one of them would wish him harm nor that he’s planning to shut out any of them. This too trusting character of his was how he ended up falling victim to George’s latest invention at tonight farewell party.

Angelina’s pregnancy had finally reached Mr Perks’ ears, not that Angelina and George had ever put any effort to keep it secret. There were noticeable changes in her appearance as she never tried to conceal her growing abdomen with baggy clothes. Most who saw her can correctly guess that she’s pregnant in one glance.

Her relationship with George was never a secret either. Other than living together, for outsider and even people close to them, there’s no significant change in their interaction too. Both would lightly say “_Oh, we’re good friend_” and “_No, right now we don’t have any plan to marry_” to anyone who enquired about their relationship. Although most just let them be, their way of living didn’t sit well for traditionalist like Mr Perks.

As predicted, nothing could dissuade Mr Perks from demanding his only daughter to quit her job. It was non-negotiable. He’d been very adamant to the point that he might go as far as confine her at home if she defied his order. Therefore after one and a half years working at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Amy left the shop.

Tonight was her secret farewell party at the Leaky Cauldron. Secret, not surprise. As far as Mr Perks was concerned, Sally-Anne had been taking Amy to Leaky Cauldron for a girl night with her fellow Hufflepuff. He might not forbid her outright from continuing her association with the Weasleys, but they didn’t want to take a risk for it to truly happen – especially with her Ministry’s job application at stake too. Asking his permission to attend a party organised by her former employer after dusk where the said employer’s _preposterous_ behaviour was the reason of her resignation seemed to be a bad idea.

Nonetheless, it didn’t stop the same employer, namely George Weasley, to pull his prank.

With Ginny was in Ireland for Quidditch and Angelina skipped the night (she couldn’t drink anyway), Ron had been a poor replacement to be George’s standing guard. They’re lucky that there’s only one victim, the man who had survived the most feared dark wizard in decades but easily fallen prey to a joke shop owner.

There wasn’t much room for three people to climb the stair side by side, the fact that the one in the middle was as good as a dead weight on their shoulders certainly didn’t make it easier. However both Hermione and Ron agreed that levitating him using magic just felt wrong. Stunning him was not an option too considering normally being hit by Stunning Spell when drunk would lead to massive headache afterward and they didn’t want to take a risk with his condition. At least now he’s mostly inebriated, barely conscious but no longer under compulsion to tap dance.

“I really can’t comprehend what’s the point of making this potion,” Hermione grumbled once they put Harry down on his bed.

Ron chuckled. “Not everyone is good at dancing, Hermione. A little help will be appreciated,” he defended. “As far as I know, this supposes to boost your confidence and relax your body to follow the music. Well, obviously combining it with Firewhisky is not a good idea.”

“And obviously none of you thought on an antidote,” she scoffed, her scowl accentuated her sentiment.

“Who would ever make antidote for Felix Felicis, Hermione? This is not poison.” A loud giggle from their friend pulled his attention, he shifted his gaze to Harry and snickered, “Blimey, I’m just glad that it’s not me.”

She rolled her eyes. “So what should we do to him?”

“Let him sleep it off? The last time George tried it, a sip only lasted for about ten minutes before it wore off,” he suggested. Harry chose that moment to move his hand in a dance motion following his hum. “And a sip of Sleeping Draught to make him more comfortable perhaps?”

Hermione grimaced, there’s no way they could leave him like this. It’s almost an hour since Harry had started dancing on the table like a possessed man and he had only stopped because of exhaustion – the potion apparently didn’t boost stamina. She heaved a long heavy breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, weighing her options.

“Do you know the ingredients?”

“Not in detail.”

“Just tell me, does George use either poppy seed, asphodel, pine branch, or scorpion powder?”

He frowned, trying to jog his memory. “Definitely asphodel,” he said confidently. “Not sure about poppy seed and pine branch, but I’m sure he didn’t use scorpion powder. There’s some problem with our supplier, we can’t restock Puking Pastilles because of it.”

“Puking Pastilles contains scorpion powder?!” she shrieked. Ron only shrugged. “Oh never mind, why I even ask. Sleeping Draught is fine. Those four are ingredients that won’t react well with alcohol, but if it scorpion powder then you can’t give Sleeping Draught to him. We don’t need any more complication.”

He nodded in understanding. “Can you get it? Harry stores some of his supply in his study, if it’s not there then there maybe some in the kitchen. I’ll change his clothes, he won’t like sleeping in his robes.”

Both of them had their wands, therefore one of them could just summon it from the bedroom. But she understood, Ron didn’t want her there without saying it directly hence she exited the room. And even though she actually had a vial of Sleeping Draught in her bag, she went to the room two doors away down the hall that Harry used as his study because just standing outside until they’re done just seem stupid.

Unsurprisingly, the door wasn’t locked. She’s really worried about Harry’s life as an Auror, at this rate his lack of vigilance would get him killed someday. She was tempted to check whether his drawer was secured or not just to prove her suspicion but she quickly dismissed that thought. There’s a limit on how far she would meddle in his life and rummaging his drawer surely crossed that boundary, she’d just scold him later.

Finding the vial, she intended to leave right away but her eyes caught what it looked to be a piece of parchment under the desk. Her curiosity won.

It’s a map. The first place she recognised in it was Hogwarts, but the one that took her attention was an area near Hogsmeade. It was circled in red, two words of ‘Hogsinbag Moor’ were written there. She never heard it and she prided herself to know the area well after spending considerable time going back and forth there for her House-Elf and magical signature research.

Then she remembered why she was here, Ron would wonder if she didn’t return. She put the map to where she found it and headed back to Harry’s bedroom.

She knocked the door. “Put your clothes on, boys! I’m coming.” Not waiting any reply, she opened the door and entered.

“Right on time.” And without missing a beat, he grinned, “Will not want you to catch us in a compromising position, will you?”

She burst out laughing, finally let herself to see the humour in their situation. She pulled the stopper and positioned the lid of the vial on Harry’s lip while Ron held him. Easier than she had thought, it only needed a little coaxing for him to drink the draught. Soon he dozed off and fell into slumber.

“Sleep well, Harry. Maybe this can be your lesson to be more careful, don’t start to carry your own bottle like Moody though,” she joked light heartedly, gazing at him fondly.

She expected to hear a quip from Ron, but when there’s only silence she moved her gaze from her sleeping friend to her other childhood friend and was taken aback by the strange look he threw at her. She raised her brows in question.

A timid closed lip smile appeared on his face. “Looks like it will be awhile until the rain stop. Fancy a cuppa?”

Knowing him for so long, she reckoned that he had something to say to her and he was nervous about it. She couldn’t recall anything significant had happened in the past weeks so she wondered what could make him this jittery. Nevertheless, she didn’t voice it and played indifference instead.

“You can Apparate home directly from the front door, but I have to walk several yards to my flat. I think I’ll stay the night here, there are plenty empty rooms anyway,” she told him in light tone. “But I will not refuse a cup of hot chocolate.”

His posture was more relaxed than before and he beamed, “Well, let’s see if Harry has any.”

They didn’t need to look though, because when they arrived at the kitchen two cups of steaming hot chocolate were already served with a plate of orange biscuits on the table.

“Wow Hermione, this House-Elf Bond is the best idea you ever have on spew. We don’t even have to ask!”

“It’s S.P.E.W,” she corrected him sharply, not appreciating how he kept teasing her with her past endeavour. “It’s only for meal and household chore. You can expect them to clean the house and do your laundry but don’t expect them to prepare your clothes, you have to get it yourself from your wardrobe. Same for grocery. They’ll prepare meal only if there’s something they can cook in the house. It doesn’t mean you can be lazy.”

He dismissed her tirade for the biscuits, sipping his chocolate between bites. Recognising that she would only waste her breath if she continued, she shut her mouth and took the stool opposite him, reaching her cup.

“I ... I’m seeing Louisa.”

Her cup stopped few inches from her lips. She had to blink several times to grab her bearing and looked up at him.

“What I mean is I’m dating Louisa. It’s still new. I haven’t told anyone and I want you to be the first to know,” he blurted out rapidly as if afraid of losing his nerve. “But I’ll end it if you don’t like it.”

It took three seconds longer for Hermione to adsorb what she’d just heard. “Wait, what?!”

“I don’t want to repeat what happened in sixth year with Lavender and everything. I hurt you then. But trust me, you’re more important to me so if you don’t like it, I’ll break up with her. It’s only been a week, so it will be easy.”

“Calm down, Ron!” she cut him in, stopping his ramble. “Breathe.”

She actually said it more to herself, suddenly her stomach seemed to be filled with melted lead and someone was playing drum loudly in her ears. It slowed her brain down.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” she began. “You’re dating Louisa Phillips, but you also said you’ll end it if I told you to. Am I right?”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he murmured, his head bowed despondently.

Ignoring the tightening feeling in her chest, she said, “Oh please give me some credit, Ron. I can grow up too, I’m not seventeen anymore.” She made sure that her voice sound was light.

His eyes glanced up to hers, hopeful. She exhaled, pushing whatever had filled her lung out, and smiled. “Do you love her?”

He opened his mouth but then paused. “I ... I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I like her,”

And his face lighted up, from his eyes and his grin. “She’s amazing, Hermione,” he started. “You know how I often accompany her since she barely knows anyone here, right? She’s very smart, it’s like she knows everything. Except Quidditch. Do you know that they don’t have Quidditch game at Beauxbaton? Some who play Quidditch do it during summer holiday, they have some kind of summer youth league there but none of her friend plays so she’s not very familiar with it. Then I took her to Canons’ match and we’re having so much fun. Not that I don’t enjoy our other outing, but it felt different. We spend a lot of time together, just the two of us. Honestly I don’t even know how it happened, we ... we’re going out and suddenly we’re dating. It’s just happen.”

Hermione wasn’t sure whether Ron even took breath throughout his talk but one thing for certain, his smile never faded from his face, it only broadened overtime. His eyes might be on her, but not at her.

She didn’t know how to respond except for a quiet, “Okay.” She swallowed the lump on her throat. “She makes you happy,” she surmised for him.

“Yes, she does.” There’s no hesitation in his answer.

“Then I’m happy for you, Ron.”

She smiled, ignoring the turmoil of emotion in her chest. It managed to assure Ron, though there’s still some concern in his stare. “You’re sure?”

She chuckled. “Off course, why wouldn’t I? We’re friend. The fact that you date Louisa or any other girl will not change that.” To lighten the mood, she added teasingly, “I promise I will not send horde of canaries if you kiss Louisa in front of me, you have my word. And just so you know, I like her too”

Despite what she said, the heavy and throbbing feeling in her chest didn’t recede one bit. It’s hurt, but she just had to deal with it. Later, not now. What she had to do now was to prove her word, to be a good friend for Ron.

***

Draco ducked behind a worn down sofa in what appeared to be a drawing room directly connected to sunroom. This place was too open for his liking, however it provided more space to move and to escape if needed. He might be on the side who initiated the attack but right now he was the one being cornered.

Only St Potter would think that it’s a good idea to carry out a raid in the morning with only one meeting to coordinate everything just the afternoon before. A frontal attack with only eight persons in the team. He couldn’t decide whether this was good or stupid plan.

It certainly had the benefit of minimising possible leak – they still hadn’t found where the past leaks occurred – since everyone involved would mostly be under watch from start till the end. Judging by everyone’s expression, nobody had known about this plan except Potter and Robards.

Winter also meant the sunrise came later, thus even though they wouldn’t have the cover of the night, the dawn could spare them some. There’s surprise value as well since most people weren’t morning riser. A proper gentleman would know that starting quarrel before breakfast was unbecoming.

In fact for a hasty arranged raid, it had gone swiftly according to plan. They had charged in from all angles. Several young wizards (possibly new recruits) had been caught unaware and easily apprehended. Then, it had been going downhill from there as it had turned into full blown fight, especially for him.

Crabbe Sr was bordering crazy. He might not be bright or talented wizard which only made him more dangerous with lack of care on danger or risk which made him unpredictable, essentially a loose cannon. Added with his goal to kill him, it’s all turned to be the worst combination for Draco. Once Crabbe Sr had seen him, he had bothered with nothing else but to kill him. And that’s how he ended up being cornered to this room.

There’s a loud explosion in distance, followed by shatter of glass and something like the crash of furniture. The curse on the land made Apparation not possible. With no quick escape as option, duels were unavoidable. Which meant everyone was busy. Not that he anticipated anyone would come to his rescue, some of his colleagues would never mind to write him off as being killed in action.

Amidst noises around him, he could hear the heavy footstep from the hallway, getting louder with every step. Engaging him in open duel had been proven to be very risky, Crabbe Sr was willing to die if it meant to take Draco with him, bare handed if necessary. Blood for blood; if Crabbe line had to end, so did Malfoy line.

Draco’s best bet would be to tackle him in one strike; stun him or kill him. Amongst spells, those two were one of few which must be cast verbally to get the desirable effect, meaning his position would be revealed. But killing him was never an option, he couldn’t even risk to kill him by mistake and tainted his magic. So even though Stunning Spell could be deflected easily – even for Crabbe Sr – he had no other choice than that, he just had to make sure that his aim would hit the target.

From the sound, Crabbe Sr was approaching the door or closer. It’s time to act, just one chance.

Non-verbally he blasted the china at the corner for diversion and in one quick motion, he leapt from his hiding and shouted, “_Stupefy_!”

Then everything was blurred in a rapid series of curses, light, and hexes.

Something had tripped Crabbe Sr which made his aim miss, it charred the wall where it struck. The next thing he knew, he was rolling from one furniture to another, smoky streams of red, blue, and green flew over his head as Crabbe Sr releasing barrage of curses to his direction.

Draco whipped his wand to block a curse as he was second too late to take cover on nearby table which gave Crabbe an opening to throw another Slicing Curse. He dodged it in time and, in the same motion, shot back the same curse. Crabbe Sr didn’t even bother to dodge it, letting it wound his left arm to keep firing his attack. To stay in defensive was getting more difficult for Draco, the spells kept coming in an erratic direction that it’s harder for him to dodge it.

The next time he blinked, he was sliding so fast on his back and only stopped when he hit the wall. Wood splintering, flakes of broken glass raining down all around him, and by the sharp stinging feel on his side it seemed like couple of his ribs were broken. Worst, few feet away from him, lay his wand on the floor.

“Coward till the very end, Malfoy. Or you’re just weak?”

From where he was, the first thing he saw was his leather shoes. Draco was always the tall one amongst his peer and for many reasons he’d never liked if he had to tilt his head up to anyone, but now he had to. He bypassed the wand that been pointed at him to look straight for his would-be-murderer’s eyes.

“You already killed my father,” he stated coldly, maintaining his expression to remain void of emotion. It wouldn’t be wise to provoke him, he only planned to lure him to start talking. Draco knew he could summon his wand wandlessly, but he needed leverage.

Crabbe Sr laughed menacingly. “He’s a bonus. But you’ll meet him soo– ”

Draco leapt towards his wand, taking his chance while at the same time also bracing himself for whatever curse coming. For a second, briefly he heard a shout of “_IMPEDIMENTA!_” a moment as he darted to the sunroom, using the doorway for shelter. He pressed his back to the wall and clenched his wand against his chest for reassurance.

“Who’s there?!” from the other room, the older wizards screamed.

Draco stretched his neck to take a peek, wondering who had saved him earlier, but pull it back quickly as Crabbe Sr angrily throwing curses to every direction. He pressed his back further to the wall when a red light blazing through the door, making a long nasty dent when it finally hit the wall.

Lowering his body to the floor, he carefully tried to take another look to the drawing room and he saw a distinct ripple on the wall beside the window. His eyes widened in horror, it flickered a glimpse of brown hair as it moved to veranda through the shattered glass window, several dots of red liquid on the floor revealed her hiding spot.

Draco cursed under his breath. _Of course Potter will drag her into this! Let’s hope she’s smart enough to stay where she was._

He sat back again, gritted his teeth cursing what he’s about to do, and hollered, “Vincent burned himself to death, Crabbe. Don’t blame me for his own stupidity when he got it from you!”

“You bastard!”

The wall above him was blasted, but Draco was ready for that. He rolled over to the other side of the door frame and, utilising the dust as cover, shot a Freezing Spell. Unlike Stunning Spell, it would work on whichever body part it hit. Crabbe Sr was falling to the ground as his lower body was paralysed but Draco didn’t wait to disarm him. His left hand was halfway to grab the wand when his eyes caught a jet green light from his left and he quickly ducked for cover.

“Crabbe, let’s go!” It’s Yaxley.

“No! I almost had the boy!”

“We leave now, you moron!”

Seeing an opportunity to strike, Draco whipped another curse but Yaxley was faster. With a loud groan, a bookshelf came toppling down towards him.

Draco was flat on his back, arm flung over his head in reflex, but the crushing blow never came. If it not for the sofa he’s been using for cover, he’d be well pinned by 80 pounds of solid wood instead of raining books.

In his current position, he could only resume defensive stance. All of his senses were on alert for any noise or movement, prepared for incoming attack. However, minutes ticked by and aside from a soft tug of falling books, it’s mostly hush. There’s not even any explosion, blast of curse, or cries of spells from the distance.

He crawled cautiously from under the shelves, _Protego_ ready on the tip of his tongue, and found nobody in the room. Yaxley had succeeded to force Crabbe Sr to run then, probably dragging him by the collar, not wanting to fight a lose battle.

Ignoring the ache on his right ribcages, Draco stormed to veranda. He didn’t even bother casting Revelio Charm and just snapped, “What the hell are you doing here, Granger?! Potter–“

She grabbed his wrist. “Don’t tell him please.”

Her Disillusionment Charm was lifted and he’s sure that it’s not deliberate but it was because she couldn’t hold it any longer.

There, sitting on the floor and back leaning against the wall as if she was using all her energy to not pass out, was Hermione Granger.

She wore dark jumper but Draco could see that it’s damp. By the red wet mark on his wrist where she gripped it weakly and red liquid seeping through her sleeve before dripping to the floor, he could guess the reason.

“You were hit,” he spoke, stating the obvious.

She grimaced, releasing a hiss of pain. “Can you please summon my bag from the room, I have my potion and salve supply there. My right arm feels numb and I don’t think I can move either.”

Even with how wet her jumper was, there’s still enough that escaped and created a dark pool on the stone floor below her limp hand. The slash was on her right arm, but from her low neck jumper, he could see angry red open wound on her collarbone. He recognised this curse.

“You need to go to hospital,” he said urgently. This was bad, very bad.

“No! I’m fine, just get my bag, please. Nobody can know that I’ve ever been here,” she pleaded, inhaling a shaky breath. Her face was so pale, certainly from the loss of blood.

“Gran–“

“Please, Draco.”

It was barely a whimper before her body gave away. Her grip slackened and his hands moved in time to catch her as she fell forward into his arm, cold and unconscious.


	23. Scent

There was nothing. She saw nothing, heard nothing, tasted nothing, smelled nothing, sensed nothing. All was black and void, time lost all meaning. She couldn’t even feel her own body as if she didn’t even have it, like she ceased to exist.

And suddenly, a scorching pain engulfed her. It’s like her body was ripped open and then filled with millions of needles, piercing her inside mercilessly while her skin was burned by Fiendfyre. It was too much. She wanted to scream, but at the same time it’s like she was choked. She just wanted it to be over, to be freed from this body, released from this torture.

“_Stay with me, Amber. Stay with me._”

Was that her name? Or was her fuzzy mind affecting her hearing? But she knew that voice, knew it well since long ago. A distant whisper from far away, yet felt so close. She knew that voice.

It’s calling her.

It calmed her. Her body relaxed as the burning dissipated, replaced by sensation of balm of breezy dew on her skin. The stitches just disappeared, leaving her body empty and light. Then she was freed, floating into nothingness, but now she felt at peace.

The next time she came into her awareness, the first thing her sense caught was that scent. Of a freshly cut grass after the rain. This also felt familiar. It soothed her to sleep, a deep and peaceful sleep, for she knew that she’s safe and everything would be alright.

It was the same fragrance that pulled her into consciousness some time later. One by one her senses returned. First was her smell. After all it was the scent that had lured her. Second was her hearing, of a faint humming sound she heard every day on her bedroom. Yet she recognised that the fluffiness of the pillow beneath her head was not hers.

Hermione tried to open her eyes but quickly shut it again as a searing pain sliced through her right, from shoulder to arm. She inhaled a deep breath slowly, held it for few seconds, and released it through her gritted teeth. Three more lung-full of breath and the pain turned into a dull sort of throb. Her whole body felt sore, but she could manage. This was surely not as bad as when she had woken up in Hospital Wing at the end of her fifth year.

In a way, she could blame it to Harry. If only he had listened to her, they wouldn’t be in Department of Mystery at all that night. But now, she only had herself to blame, or her curiosity to be precise. Curiosity killed the cat and in her case, apparently it could kill her too.

She should know better! More than a decade befriending Harry Potter and Ron Weasley should have taught her to follow her brain instead of her gut. Jumping head first without thinking first mostly would only bring trouble. There’s a difference between brave and reckless, and even before she had entered the house, she knew that what she’s about to do was a bad idea, it was beyond stupid!

On the other hand, she was in dire need for distraction. She still wasn’t able to sort out her feeling about Ron’s new relationship, it was harder than what she’d thought. And her usual solution when she couldn’t solve one problem was to occupy herself with solving other problem.

She hadn’t lied to Harry when she said she had enough deadly duel to last a lifetime. In fact, her initial plan was to slip into the house, avoiding any duels she might encounter, find whatever Rookwood had stolen from the Ministry, and left. She’d be fully under Disillusionment Charm from start to end, nobody would know that she’d been there, especially Harry. He would also never be aware that she had raided his study.

It should be quick and easy, just like with Skeeter. She even had deliberately chosen the quietest room to enter. But she had only been few steps into the house when Draco appeared and duel ensued not five minutes later. Still, she had been safe where she was; hidden, invisible, and protected by magical shield she had cast around her. Until Draco had been cornered by his opponent, she knew then that she couldn’t just watch and did nothing.

Eventually, she managed to open her eyes. She expected to be assaulted by a bright blinding light but the curtain did its job blocking most of the daylight into the room. It helped her eyes to adjust faster.

The first thing that caught her sight was the light bulb on the ceiling, a common light bulb. She blinked, twice, just to be sure that it wasn’t the product of her disorientation. Then her eyes moved lower to the wall where it found an ordinary analog clock, both of its hands were between bold inscription of 1 and 2.

A pricking pain spiked through her right upper torso when she attempted to sit up. But she pushed through and with some effort. Putting her weight on her left elbow, she managed to lift her body up into sitting position. The wound was mainly on her arm and shoulder so once she’s in sitting position, it’s easy to manoeuvre her legs over the side of the bed.

The room was medium sized, slightly bigger than her bedroom with two doors on different side, one possibly leading to bathroom. Everything else was also ordinary; bed, wardrobe, and widows draped by thick curtain – spare and plain with no evidence of personal touch anywhere. Aside from the clock, the all four walls were barren; no painting, no poster, no framed photographs.

She found her wand next to her hand bag on bedside table, where she also noticed a nightlight plug on its socket above the table, another indication of electricity. She pushed her brain to recall memories before she blacked out and pieced clues together to make a deduction on where she was right now. The only place she ever saw wand lying next to electrical device was her flat, but this certainly wasn’t.

She didn’t need to ponder long though. The door swung open, presenting her the answer.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Of course she remembered that the last person she had saw before she passed out was Draco Malfoy, but there’s no way she would connect this room to him. Especially the way he was standing there by the door, looking at ease in casual long sleeve t-shirt and insouciant demeanour as if seeing her there was an everyday occurrence. It’s so strange and beyond her imagination.

Still feeling overwhelmed by her surprise, she only gaped, “Why ... How ...”

“Pippin brought you here,” Draco spoke blandly, interrupting her sputtering. “Me carrying bloodied you would surely land me in Azkaban and dumping you in front of St Mungo’s wouldn’t do anyone good, so here you are.”

Eventually she managed to form full sentence. “It’s Muggle flat.” It was not a question.

“What an astute observation, Granger. Glad your brain still working just fine”

“_You_ live in a _Muggle_ flat,” she accentuated her statement, disbelieve evident in her voice.

He rolled his eyes and instead of responding, he just casually strode in.

“Drink this.” He handed her a blue vial, then put a violet vial and a small jar containing a brownish green cream on the bedside table, pointing the jar when he said, “then apply this to the wound on your arm after about a minute. This one is Numbing Potion if you think you can’t handle the pain. The cream will bring strong burning sensation.”

When she returned her gaze to Draco she found him staring at her, eyebrows arched, exacting confirmation that she understood his instruction. Hermione tentatively nodded in affirmation and without saying any word, he left.

The stopper had already been removed, so without any hesitation she brought it to her mouth and took it all in one gulp. If any of her friend – particularly Harry and Ron – ever heard about this, it was guaranteed that they’d give her the reprimand of the century. Drinking an unknown potion handed by _the_ Draco Malfoy, and without properly checking it beforehand, was very _inadvisable_ and beyond possibility of comprehension until two years ago.

She couldn’t pin point when or what exactly had made her start to unquestioningly trust Draco, but it’s true that right now there’s not even any inkling thought that he would poison her. Maybe it was when they started exchange lunch or the fact that she’s still alive now. Logically why would he give her poison after bringing her here and healed her? That just didn’t make any sense, right?

The effect was immediate, the dull pain subsided into itch as the potion worked wonder on her wound. She remembered the curse had only scratched her upper arm so it should have only been a small gash, but considering how much she had bleed and the pain was all over her right torso, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Draco had told her to apply the cream after one minute so while waiting, her eyes wandered again but stopped at nicely folded velvet jumper. Instantly the tension returned to her body. Her eyes widened in mortification as realisation dawn on her.

Currently she’s wearing an unfamiliar shirt – man’s shirt, few sizes too big and sleeves too long for her – sans bra. Although yes, she never slept wearing one, but she _always_ wore one when she went outside and right now she had a feeling that she’d find it in that pile of folded clothing.

Well, it’s common knowledge that _Scourgify_ was not really effective to clean bloodstain, in fact there’s no spell that could remove bloodstain better than washing it manually. And if she’d been sent to hospital, there’d be some stranger who’d change her bloodied clothes anyway, it’s not a big deal.

Or so she’s tried to convince herself, because the alternative was not something she wanted to think right now nor intended to find out in any given time. At least she still had her trouser – and thankfully her knickers – on, a trace of dried dark stain around her right hip. Still, she could feel her face heating up.

To divert her thought from this clothes debacle, she snatched the jar from the table and marched to the bathroom. For now, tending her wound was her priority. Once she felt better, she’d leave and forget everything. Besides, her ‘mission’ had failed so she could just forget everything (Obliviate herself if possible) and pretend as if nothing happen.

She tried hard to ignore that it wasn’t her shirt when she undid its two topmost buttons, letting it slide off her right shoulder. Instead she focused her attention to her reflection in the mirror, particularly her shoulder where the pain felt the most.

Just like she thought, it was only a small slash on her arm, three inches from where her arm joined her shoulder, but what caught her attention was the discolouration on the skin around it. While it already stitched together and looked more like an angry red line scar, the skins around it was greyish blue, as if on a verge of frostbite, very contrast with the pale pink from her elbow to her collarbone. Both were not her natural skin colour; tan like the rest of her body.

As she was observing it, the greyish area gradually narrowed and turned into pale pink. It felt itchy, she was very tempted to scratch it but she reckoned it’d be unwise to do. Nonetheless, she still touched it, carefully caressing it. It felt raw, like fresh re-grown new flesh or skin. In fact, it maybe was because it really reminded her of when she healed Ron’s splinching wound.

Draco was right, it hurt so much when the cream made contact with her skin and she always considered herself to have high pain-tolerance. She bit her lip to resist from screaming, a loud frustrated hiss escaped instead. Perhaps it indeed burned her since it started to smoke. As it steadily disappeared, so did the pain.

The scar now was just a thin white line, almost invisible if it’s not for the contrast with the newly pinked skin. No remnant of cream as if it had evaporated, or perhaps it indeed was hence the smoke. The itch was still there though. She might drink the second vial just so she wouldn’t scratch it.

Now that she no longer distracted by the pain, she made a mistake by glancing at her full reflection. What she saw in the mirror was an image of a young woman in a man’s shirt too big for her with its two buttons open showing her un-bra’ed cleavage, the only word that could describe her hair was _disaster_. This was a typical image of ‘morning after’. Even without the fact that currently she was in the bathroom belong to the said shirt-owner and minutes ago she had woken up in the said person’s bed.

She shook her head vehemently, trying her hardest to expel that thought from her mind. This wouldn’t do, not at all. The easiest and fastest solution was changing her clothes so that what she did.

Even then, in her own jumper and look presentable, she still wasn’t ready to face Draco. He might being a gentleman by not saying anything moment ago, but who knew if he’d changed his mind and decided not to miss another chance to mock her. No matter what he’d say, she wasn’t sure she could counter it with proper comeback, or even able to say it with straight face. Months she had lived in a tent with two boys and never once this kind of awkward moment had ever occurred!

Not in hurry to see Draco, Hermione started a closer exploration of her surroundings. Now that she had an opportunity to investigate his personal space, off course she wouldn’t waste it. If she’s lucky, she might find something that she could use as ammunition for later.

No such luck though. Unlike Harry, he knew not to leave his drawer unlocked when unattended and not with a simple lock that could be opened by an _Alomohora _too. She’d welcome the challenge to try to break it and she’s rather confident that she’d succeed, but it would take time. Not when the owner was on the other side of the door and could enter anytime though.

She moved to the window, sliding the curtain to look outside. A quick glance and she gathered that she was on first floor, by what she saw out there, of a building in a Muggle neighbourhood. Actually she knew this area well.

Eager to confirm her notion, she hadn’t been far from the bedroom threshold when she demanded, “Is that Manor Park over there?”

“That’s what written on its sign, yes.”

He didn’t bother turning around to face her when he answered, fully engaged in whatever he’s doing, which dare she guessed, might be cooking. But after finding him living in Muggle flat, what else could surprise her anymore, not even several electronic devices like telly and fridge she found there.

Hermione took the only chair on the kitchen table. A quick scan on her surroundings, she could construe that this was what you’d get on a bachelor flat who didn’t expect – or _want_ – to have guest.

There’s no sign of other bathroom other than the one in the bedroom while the only other room was this one, spacious sitting room with rather nice kitchen. Or maybe it felt spacious because it’s almost empty. Other than the single chair she’s currently sitting, there’s only a velvet blue settee paired with a small coffee table facing the telly. For a Malfoy who kept bragging about his family wealth throughout their school years, this place was very understated. Even her fridge was bigger than the one here.

“I live not far from here, do you know that?” she started conversationally.

He gave no reaction and knowing him, Hermione didn’t push further. When Draco didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t even flinch no matter how much she tried to goad him. Sadly it wasn’t the case for her, Draco always made it look so easy to rile her up.

Silence descended between them and she started to consider maybe it’s time to take her leave when finally Draco faced her, a steaming bowl on his hand.

“Surely you’re not accusing me of stalking, Granger?” he said, as if there’s no pause between her query and his reply.

Hermione almost smiled, but quickly covered it into snicker. She leaned further against the table, resting her elbows on it and her chin in her hand – something that her mother always forbade her – and looked at him in challenge.

“Oh, I don’t know. You once claimed that I ...,” she trailed off, pretending to think. “what was it again, _invading_ your hideout. So who know if you’re not seeking for retribution.”

He only smirked back and pushed the bowl to her, pointing it with his chin as a gesture for her to eat it.

“You cook?”

“It’s not so different from making potion,” he shrugged dismissively.

It wasn’t so bad, or if she’s being generous, she would say that it’s actually a decent chicken broth. As she sipped another spoon, she could detect a hearty taste of mung beans slightly offset by ginger which not only heighten the taste but she could feel it warm her up as it passed down her throat. Maybe a little bit of spices would make it taste better.

“What potion did you give me there?” She started another conversation so Draco wouldn’t just stand there, staring intently at her while she’s eating. “I reckon it’s not Blood Replenishing Potion or the likes. I can’t taste any indication of silverweed or dittany and I know you can’t just rid the nuttery texture of silverweed. Although considering how much blood I lost this morning, it’s quite strange that I didn’t experience dizziness.”

His brows furrowed. “This morning? You’re unconscious for,” he took a quick glance at the clock on the wall, “28 hours, give or take.”

“What?”

“It’s Sunday, Granger,” he expound flatly. “Not a bad deduction though. Indeed, I didn’t give you any Blood Replenishing Potion, your body has enough time to reproduce it on its own.”

He moved back and sauntered to the cabinet, reaching for a jar of tea leaves and busying himself with the boiling kettle.

“Do you know what kind of curse was that?” she probed further.

“A variation of Discerptus Curse,” he stated blandly.

The way he brewed his tea was like potion making. Carefully he measured up how much he put loose leaves into the teapot - which covered by tea cosy! The last time she saw it was her late Nana’s – before attentively poured hot water over it.

“A small cut will do, then it will spread out, eating your skin and flesh while also prevent the blood from clotting. Because of the blood loss and open wound, your first thought will be Blood Replenishing Potion or Essence of Dittany, but that is a stupid mistake. The bleeding will get worse and the regeneration property in Dittany will only propagate the curse faster. I can assure you, Granger, that’s not the way you want to die.”

“There’s Counter Curse of course. Right?” she added, seeing that smirk on his face. “So what you gave me then? I’m still alive so you must have done something.”

“Thinking of joining my raid again, Granger?” he taunted, which she answered with a withering glare. Not that it deterred him.

“Fine. I can find the answer myself if you don’t want to tell me,” she huffed indignantly, albeit she actually enjoyed this inside. It’d been so long since the last time they had this kind of conversation, she missed this.

“You really make it your life mission to know everything, huh?”

She shoved the last spoon of the broth into her mouth. After all, the last time she had eaten was dinner on Friday so naturally she’s hungry. Then suddenly she remembered the colour of her skin around the wound.

“You froze me,” she gasped. “At least part of my body. Thus you could stop the bleeding and possibly stop the curse from spreading.”

“Merlin! Now I understand why Snape disliked you.” He turned so his back was on her, but for a second she’s sure she saw the corner of his lips curled upwards into a brief smile. It didn’t linger for long though. It’s no longer there when he faced her again, placing two teacups on the table.

“The curse only work on living creature, warm flesh,” he began. “It won’t even make any scratch on Inferi. So it’s not just about freezing it, but also turning it into ‘dead meat’ and putting it to static state to prevent decomposition, then the curse will stop working and gone. What the potion did is merely reversing it and the cream is just to clean up.”

It sounded so simple, yet she knew how tricky and _risky_ it was. It required precision both in casting and timing, one tiny mistake and she could die because the curse already spread to vital organ which couldn’t be ‘killed’ without killing her for real or at the very least she could lose a limp either because it couldn’t be reversed or the Static Charm was cast too late and decomposition already started.

“You miss your calling, Draco,” she noted genuinely. “You’ll make a fine Healer.”

Using tea strainer, he poured the tea into each tea cups.

“It’s just a basic lesson of Dark Art, Granger. A naive will only think on defence against Dark Art, while a fool learning Dark Art without understanding how it works,” he stated matter-of-factly, proffering one cup to her.

Hermione stared at the cup, appraising it, before looking up to him. “Won’t you offer me sugar or milk?”

“The three minutes brew is best to be enjoyed as it is. Sugar and milk will only destroy its flavour.”

Her mouth twitched, but she nodded in acquiescence. “You can also put your teapot in Static Charm instead of tea cosy.”

“It’s winter,” he stated as if it was a clear enough reason. At her blank look, he elaborated, “Static Charm will keep the heat, but tea cosy will let some heat seep out.”

Again, Hermione just nodded. Luckily she didn’t inherit her mother’s pickiness on tea. For her, tea was tea. Her life was way easier without her needing to worry about how her tea tasted like.

He picked up his cup – left palm holding the saucer while right thumb and forefinger on the cup holder – and strolled to the settee. “What about you, Granger? Does Potter really don’t know that you still babysitting him? Or did you suddenly realise that you chose the wrong career?”

“I have my own reason. Harry has nothing to do with what I did,” she bristled haughtily, sipping her tea for cover. Lucky for her, she didn’t need t worry about maintain her facial expression because it didn’t taste as bitter as she expected. Sure the tea hadn’t steeped for long so it wasn’t that strong, but there’s this sweet taste in it that picked her interest. What kind of leaf did he brew, she wondered.

“Colour me surprised, Granger. The Miss Do-Gooder of Gryffindor, always the rule follower, and everyone thought that it was Potter who dragged you into trouble. But look how naughty you can be,” he drawled with, she imagined, that annoying smug smirk. “I applaud how well you maintain that pretence so well, Granger.”

“Oh, colour me surprised, Draco. Look what’s hidden behind your selfish prat façade,” she countered, swirling on her chair to face him and imitating his stance. “Why, Draco, I have a feeling that this is not the first time you’ve saved me.”

She paused for a dramatic effect before continued in an impish tone, “Last month I visit Hogwarts and I heard an interesting story from my House resident Ghost. Can you guess what it was?”

“I don’t understand what are you talking about?”

“Do you?” She took another sip of her tea. _My, this tea did taste good_.

He scoffed wryly. “I’m not your Potter, Granger. Me playing a hero? How insulting!” He put down his cup onto the coffee table. “As a guest in my house, didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s uncouth to insult your host?”

“My apology then.” Her tone didn’t imply that she was. Instead, a victorious smile bloomed on her face. Her suspicion was correct then. Better yet, she hit the right button. She’d note it for her future reference.

“Well, I certainly don’t want to overstay my welcome,” she said calmly, mirroring his action in putting down her cup. “I think I should go home now, before Ginny notice my disappearance and tell Harry to send search party.”

He stood up, crossing the room in four long strides. “Potter’s in hospital, stay overnight to re-grow bones.”

“In that case, I really should go.” She picked up her hand bag and winced. The Numbing Potion she’d drunk seem finally had worn off. It’s still manageable, but she switched to her left hand. “Thank you anyway. For this broth I mean. And the tea.”

With a flick of his wand, he cleaned and sent the bowl and cups into the cabinet. He opened another drawer and took out a vial, similar to the one he gave her previously.

“Your last dose.” He set it in front of her. “Drink only if the colour around your wound hasn’t looked normal, or you still feel stiff or anything, in two hours.”

“Thank you.” She used her left hand again.

When she felt his presence behind her, at first she thought that he was just being courteous as a host he claimed to be by escorting her to the door. Thus she was taken aback to find him following her outside and locking the door. And when did he put black winter hat on his head, covering most of his platinum hair. Did her mind was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice it?

She looked at him questioningly.

“Groceries,” he muttered dismissively before anything escaped her half open mouth. To prove his point, he sidled past her and walked decisively ahead, not waiting for her.

She covered her mouth to stifle her chuckle. With a brisk light step, she followed after him.

“There’s a nice supermarket not far from my flat. Want to check it?” she commented offhandedly when she caught on his steps.

He remained impassive, but it didn’t expel the smile on her face.

\---***---

_“I imagine it was grassland,” she said suddenly from where she was nestled under the branches of the Poplar tree, breaking the tranquillity that surrounded them for a little long while._

_Like before, she just flippantly jumped to a topic with no overture as if they were already in the middle of a long conversation. He didn’t really mind though, it’s quite a challenge to keep up with her but if he’s being honest, he actually enjoyed it too much. Which worried him because he’s not quite sure whether it was the right course for him to take._

_He sensed her gaze on him, but he didn’t remove his from the pond. “How so?”_

_“You always have this distinctive fragrant on you. A freshly cut grass after rain.”_

_He barely managed to hold his smile. For him, everything went as how it supposed to be, according to its destined path, for a reason that he needed not to know. He had his duty and that’s what he did, no question asked. But not her._

_Unlike him, she always sought for answer. Not for rebellion, she understood her duty, but her curiosity. Perhaps it’s because of her rather young age or that she was created from different entity than other, hence she had this thirst of knowledge that none of High Priests had. Or maybe because since her creation, she had never been or seen anything other than this place._

_It’s one of the reasons why he always indulged her._

_“There’s a reason why it’s called the Tide,” he began. Even with the distance between them, her eagerness radiated so strongly that he could feel it from where he sat. This was one more reason. _

_“Most of the time it’s only mist, but often it drizzles and in the aftermath of big Ripple, it’s a torrential downpour. When it does, it was so intense that it will cut the grass. It was necessary to maintain the meadow so once in awhile certain Ripple is necessary.”_

_“How I wish I can visit it some time,” she sighed wishfully. But they both fully realised how impossible it was. They had their own roles to assume and when it ended, it meant that they ceased to exist. They’d been created for one purpose only and nothing else._

_Beside him, he heard a movement from where she sat which could only mean another enquiry and this time, he had her full attention so she’d demand the same courtesy from him._

_“Describe it for me so I can picture how it looks like.”_

_Even without looking at her, he could surmise how she’s doing. Her finger would be folded on her lap as if to keep her grip on her composure, whilst the spark in her eyes was unable to hide her captivation. A perplexing emotion stirred in his heart. He closed his eyes, for if he didn’t he might not capable to compose the answer she desired. This way, image of the meadow appeared in his mind for him to translate it into words._

_“Everywhere you see, the field is covered with lush grassland. As wide as the sky that even though you can spot tree around the perimeter, you’ll be lost when you try to reach it. It is frequently windswept, spreading the mist and making sure that it’s always moist. Each droplet waiting its turn to take its path in the Tide.”_

_“No colour?” Her voice was crisp and light. _

_With his lack of sight, his hearing was clearer. But of course, he figured long before then that even a syllable that escaped her lips would have a melody in it._

_Contrast to his flat and even sentence. “Green below and blue above. Always.”_

_“So that’s why you keep coming here, because you want to see colours.”_

_The way she spoke compelled him to open his eyes and followed her voice. When he did, their eyes met and he was captured. An overwhelming need surged within him, need of what he couldn’t decide. It’s baffling, puzzling even, yet he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to decipher it or not. For if he did, there would another uncertainty if he even allowed to own it._

_Unable to tear his eyes from hers, he breathed, “Yes, I do.”_

_She was the one who broke their connection. Still, his eyes followed her every movement as she settled against the tree once more at his side, closer to him this time. Too close. Closer than they’d ever been._

_Her knees were tucked up to her chest, she tilted her head and smiled. “And the Tide?”_

_“Flowing above the grass along its course, albeit unpredictable and uncontrollable. So do the Wind. Sometimes it will only touch the tip of the grass, sometimes blowing over the Tide without making any distortion, sometimes gracing it and if I’m blessed it will cancel any Ripple. Once in a while, both will clash and burst, thus the grass will be rejuvenated.”_

_“With no end,” she inferred._

_“It’s not something that I have the answer.”_

_Time seemed to halt when her head touched his shoulder, casually resting there with no regard of the inexplicable wave of sensation which instantly engulfed him._

_“Tell me more then,” she whispered. Now that there’s barely a distance between them, she had no need to raise her voice._

_At that moment, he realised this nagging feeling in his chest would only grow stronger. It was not for him to deny it and it’s too apparent to be ignored. Whether it was meant to be or supposed to be or even if he was allowed to be, he no longer had that choice._

_Be it Fate or Chance who had led him here back then. Just like how he took on his duty, he’d embrace whatever it was. For even if he might never be able to comprehend it, it was inevitable. His reasons would only revolve around her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mother often plays with various herbs to create her own brew and some leaves does produce sweet taste and it tastes better than if you add sugar or milk in it.


	24. Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude: a Hinny chapter.

“I’m very sorry, sir.”

This wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last for Harry to feel like this while sitting on hospital bed. Thought that kept haunt him, that maybe if he did something differently it wouldn’t end the way it was.

He realised that maybe too hard to himself, it was his first raid which he was in charged to lead so few mistakes was prone to happen. At least there’s no fatality, the most severe injury was his where his left leg had been completely crushed by collapsing wall. If he was in Muggle hospital they’d surely amputated his leg but thanked to Skele-Gro, an evening of pain re-growing his bone and he got his leg back.

They had made six arrests, seven if the comatose Hebertus Pucey was included. When he had found him, he finally understood Malfoy’s words; they had kept him bleeding to maintain access to the estate. Considering that he looked as pale as ghost – barely hanging to life, the only possibility why he hadn’t died from blood loss was regular intake of Blood Replenishing Potion. But their main target, their four most wanted fugitive, had managed to escape.

He wondered did he just act too rashly like what he had done in the past. Perhaps more briefing with the team was necessary to ensure that everyone understood what they should do or maybe he should had brought more personnel to make sure that every corner was covered. Would it bring different outcome? On the other hand, they hadn’t discovered who the mole was and even within his own team, he still didn’t know who to trust. He couldn’t risk any leak.

“I gave you my approval for the raid, didn’t I? The responsibility is on me,” Robards stated flatly. He wasn’t Dumbledore, there would be no patronising comfort from him. “Take day off, Potter.”

“But, sir–“

“Kingsley has decided to issue public statement about the breakout,” he cut his protest. “It will appear in tomorrow’s papers and your presence will only create more ruckuses. I don’t want to see you anywhere near the Ministry for the next three days. It’s an order, not suggestion.”

“Yes, sir,” he abided.

When he spoke next, his tone was less harsh. “And I want you to be in a good condition when you’re back Thursday morning, you’ll have lot of work waiting on your desk. In the meantime, I guess it means I have to trust Malfoy to deal with the paperwork on his own.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether it meant to be a joke or grumble, but he voiced his opinion.

“I don’t mean to overstep, sir, but I think he has shown enough proof that he’s capable and can be trusted. Shouldn’t we give him chance, sir?”

He scoffed. “I won’t go that far, Potter,” he warned him, enough to make him swallowing whatever argument he had. It also marked the end of their conversation as he tapped his shoulder, muttering a, “You did a good job,” then left.

Once the door was closed Harry heaved a long breath, mix of frustration and disappointment. This raid was important for him, not only about capturing the four and stopping whatever evil plan they had, but it was his chance to prove himself.

Truth be told, he was very tired with this kind of life. Just because a maniac chose to make him a target over a questionable prophecy, not only his life was ruined, but he had been burdened of saving the Wizarding world since 11. Now that he was gone, the most sensible thing he should (and wanted to) do was to lead a normal and quiet life, not becoming an Auror and spent his days chasing dark wizard.

Although he had been the one who did the final blow, defeating Voldemort was not his own achievement alone. Many people were involved in many events leading to that final moment, he could even say that his own contribution was not that big. Then he was lauded as hero, a saviour of Wizarding world, for what was basically series of luck that pulled him through several unfortunate events with a lot of background help and support from friends and the Order. Yet it was his name that would always be attached to the fall of the most feared wizard in 20th century. It just didn’t sit right for him.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing he could do to change general public perception. Even after the refuse his Order of Merlin (he really didn’t think that he deserved it) or if he went further to make a public complain to remove his face from Chocolate Frog Card, he would still be known as The Chosen One who defeated Lord Voldemort.

Instead of something he should be proud of, it was more like a burden for him. For that, he felt that he owed to those people, everyone who had made sacrifice – for some, it included their lives. And the only way he could think to honour their legacies was to do something that made him deserve the label he’d been given, hence working as Auror. Until when, he didn’t know.

The clack of the doorknob broke his contemplation. Seeing who it was, his mood changed instantly.

“Ginny?”

“You’re really here!”

Perhaps it was due to the angle of the sun or wind just swept the cloudy sky away, but as she crossed the threshold the room seemed to be brighter.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be in Ireland?”

“Back last night,” she chirped flippantly. She stood next to the bed, observing him with a – disturbingly – mirth eyes and slight grin plastered on her face.

“Still, you’re not supposed to be here. In fact, nobody should know that I’m here.”

It was partly for security reason, news of Harry Potter been admitted to hospital after a raid would surely attract the media. On the other hand, he didn’t want to worry anyone. It was only a broken leg and he didn’t need Mrs Weasley or Hermione to fuss over him.

“Yeah, I know,” she commented sympathetically. “This hospital’s security is rather questionable at most. After all, just by being a Quidditch star, I can obtain certain connection who’d generously told me that she saw my known boyfriend been brought in here. It’s easy after that, nobody will dare to forbid me visiting you. You didn’t think that I will miss the chance to see you finally end in hospital bed, right?”

He eyed her apprehensively. His Auror instinct kicked in, something didn’t feel right. “Somehow I find it unsettling to see you look so happy when you say it.”

“Oh please, don’t be such a hissy,” she cooed. Her grin morphed into a full blown open-mouth smile. “Four years, Harry, four years! You never missed your chance to land in Hospital Wing in Hogwarts, but four years working as Auror? Merlin, I almost think you’ve lost your touch.”

“Okay, now I’m concerned. My own girlfriend implies that she was hoping to see me in hospital, it’s extremely disconcerting. Be honest, Gin, if this didn’t happen, would you personally make sure that I’d be injured to the point that guarantee admission to hospital?”

Ginny opened her mouth but then paused, a frown appeared between her brows as she seemed to make a serious consideration. He blanched.

“No. It has to be work injury, not inflicted by one of us,” she stated boldly, her tone was full of conviction.

“Us?” Realisation dawned on him. Although he already knew the answer, he still asked, “Please don’t tell me you make bet on my well being.”

Her unrepentant grin only confirmed his suspicion.

“No worry, I’ll share. Since you’re injured this year, it means I win the bet. How about 30%?”

He ignored her offer and let out an exasperated sigh of, “Who?”

“Initially me, George, Lee, and Ron,” she said nonchalantly while playing with her finger, no guilt was seen in her demeanour. “Amy is too nice to make a wager on you, but Angelina also put Galleon later on.”

“Even Ron?!” he cried. By this point in his life, he couldn’t fathom how Weasleys’ antic still surprised him.

“Yup. And he stupidly believed that you would more likely be sent to St Mungo’s because of George’s invention than your work. He’s convinced that Auror job is way overrated, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds and you’ll rise within rank so fast that you’ll no longer need to do any fieldwork in no time. Thus you’ll go through your career unscathed.”

He heaved a resigned sigh. “Does Hermione know?” This was his final question for his last straw of his faith to humanity and in this specific case, his lifeline.

She sniffed indignantly, visibly insulted. “Do you think we’re that stupid?”

“Heaven’s sake! It’s official! I’m reconsidering my circle of friend, especially our relationship. No, I think I can decide now that from now on, Hermione is the only person I can trust.”

His aggravated huff only made her laugh. She then scooted onto the bed.

“Whatever you say, Potter. You won’t get away from us that long, you love us too much,” she cooed, both her palm were cupping his face.

He tried hard to hold the twitch on his lip, but failed. To cover it, he murmured, “I do, especially you.”

At least it managed to stop her laugh as moment later, she slanted her lip on his. He let her take control though, mainly to maintain the pretence that he was cross with her. Even when her hand started travel down to his neck, he managed to resist her temptation.

Likely sensing no indication that he would participate, she eventually pulled away, giving one short peck as her last try. Quietly congratulating himself for his winning, he expected to see her usual pout, but instead she pressed her forehead against his.

“Will this become habit, Harry?” she queried. Her voice was soft, completely missing the previous jollity. Her eyelids were closed and he felt her hands shaking before it clutched his shirt as if looking for anchor.

He’s the one who reached for her cheeks now. Carefully he brought his lips to her nose, coaxing her to open her eyes.

“Four years.” His tone still sounded solemn which was not what he intended so he cleared his throat. “Don’t you think it means that I’m getting better avoiding trouble despite its _unhealthy_ attraction to me? Not a bad start, right, and I think I can do better than that.” He supplemented it with what he hoped to be a mischievous smile.

Her lips curved in a wry smile, but a flicker of relief was present in her eyes. She put her palms on his, interlaced their fingers, and brought it down onto her lap.

Her eyes were on their joined hand when she spoke, “Considering that my career involves the risk of being hit by iron ball and free fall from height, it will be a lot of bullock if I start to remind you to avoid danger, right?”

They both chuckled at her statement. She finally looked up, ready to return to their light-hearted joke.

“Well, I still can throw Hermione at you to put some sense on you, no hypocrisy if it’s her. She can give you complete dressing down about acting reckless even without my assistance. Only if I can find her,” she muttered briskly. “Can you believe it, she’s my flatmate yet I see you more than her.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, musing, “That’s why I date you and not her.”

“Really?” She released her hands, putting it on her chest in a shocking gesture. “I thought it’s because you love me.”

He donned his upset mask again. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was. But after hearing about the bet–”

She cut him with a heavy smack of her lips on his. “I’ll just have to make you love me again then,” she whispered conspiratorially before pressing her lips on his again in a more leisurely pace. This time, he happily participated.

After awhile, both had enough of their fill, they untangled their hold of the other person.

“How’s the match?” He realised that he sounded breathy but looking at how flushed Ginny was, he couldn’t hold the smug smirk not to appear on his face.

Ginny was mindful enough to take a deep breath to regain her composure before talking.

“We won big. At this rate, we will definitely win the League so Reggie wants to experiment with the rotation. We can’t afford to depend only on one line-up next year since we will also play in The International Quidditch Tournament.”

“Which mean ...” he trailed off, waggled off his brows fishing for more.

“I’m on break for the week since I’m not playing in next two matches.”

He knew that he had that stupid grin on his face, but he didn’t care. “Robards gives me three days off,” he told her.

“And?”

“Have dinner with me?”

She smiled, clearly amused. “Smooth, Mr Potter. Well, I do have to make you fall in love with me again, don’t I?” She stood up, flicking her wand to fix her ruffled appearance. “I heard you can be discharged today. Let’s see if I can speed it up a bit.”

“Oh, I think I’m starting to fall for you, Ginevra Weasley.”

“Good.” She patted his cheek. “Just be ready, by the end of this day I’ll make you head over heels in love with me.”

Somehow, she made it sound like a threat and also a promise.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

***

Usually Harry would Apparate directly into his bedroom or kitchen if he was feeling hungry but tonight he landed outside, exhausted and filthy. He had spent the last five days moving from one place to another, where sometimes bed and bath were a luxury. Ron was right, Auror job was indeed not as dangerous as what people made off, but it didn’t mean that it’s not challenging nor tiring. Not many duelling occurred, instead it was mostly surveillance works and tracking any traces they could find.

Five days nonstop of those and he started to miss home, yearning for_ home_. Thus even though he wouldn’t find anyone to welcome him, by opening the door and strolling through the hallway he hoped he could get the impression of coming home, to be at _home_ and not just be in another house. Absentmindedly he pushed the door, but just two steps inside the house, he was froze on where he stood.

Aroma of rich spices and meat assaulted his nose. It smelled inviting, and _warm_. Like home. Guided by those smell, he sought its source. The only thought in his mind when he crossed the kitchen was; _he’s home_.

“Oh hey, Harry,” she greeted him, glancing briefly at him before returning her attention to her potato. “Sorry, I don’t know how to contact you but I presume you won’t mind if I borrow your kitchen.”

“You should ask Kreacher, not me. This is his territory,” he noted dazedly, stunned and utterly mesmerized by the scenery before him. His legs moved on its own volition towards the kitchen table, throwing his cloak to the table before taking the stool.

“Oh, he has no problem at all. In fact, he never bothered this past three days. Once I stocked your food up, he’s a happy Elf.” She waved her wand, sending nicely sliced potato into the pan. She made another three more twirls then putting the pan into the oven.

A satisfied smile on her lip, he nodded at her work then turned to face him, her left hand on her hip.

“Do you know that you really have offended him? You have House-Elf who literally can cook you anything you want, Harry, all you need to do is provide him with the ingredient. There’s really no need for you to eat beans on toast or canned soup all the time!”

She embodied her mother’s persona perfectly that he almost took a step back and cowered.

“Er ... he might have mentioned it once or twice. I just keep forgetting what I want to buy every time I went to store,” he offered a conciliatory grin.

“Ask him to make grocery list for you next time.”

He knew better not to argue and nodded remorsefully, putting an apologetic smile on his face to pacify her. She dropped her hand onto her side and shifted onto the table.

“Why you need my kitchen?” he asked, steering the conversation from his eating habit.

“Remember when I told you about the game night on my New Year training camp?”

Harry nodded. Ginny was fuming for a week last year because she’d lost Gobstones game on the first round. As the only sister of the Weasley twins (the self-acclaimed ‘master’ of the game) and a Chaser herself, apparently it categorised as huge sacrilege, one of the most humiliating occurrence for her.

“This year will be cooking competition and I intend to win. It’s not only about the taste but technique, so I need to practice which I can’t do in my flat because Hermione will be mad if I break any electronic for using too much magic nor at the Burrow because Mum will keep pestering me about what I should or should not do, hence yours.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that I haven’t had dinner then.”

Her nose flared when she came closer. “Urgh, you stink! Go clean up or no dinner for you,” she chided, making a shooing motion.

Dutifully he grabbed his cloak and went upstairs, shower was actually the first on his list in his original plan before he was diverted by smell of foods. He might be hungry, but he had to admit there’s only so much magic could do to his body odour after 3 days without shower.

When he’s back into the kitchen later, he found Ginny bending down in front of the oven. Took a seat on his previous stool, he spoke, “What do you plan to make for the game night?”

“Lancashire Hotpot.” She took out the said meal from the oven. Another spin of her wand and cutleries also flew onto the table. “I’ve been playing with various spells to keep the same slow-cooked texture but only for 1 hour cooking time.”

His eyes were on her as she served him a plate, somehow he couldn’t remove the lopsided grin from his face. He was so transfixed on her that she had to nudge him, gesturing him to try her cooking.

“How is it?” She watched him expectantly. “Be frank, I don’t need your flattery.”

He swallowed a spoonful of the homemade treat, then licked his lip to buy time thinking the best way to convey his conclusion. But she told him to be honest, so truthful he’d be.

“The lamb is still a little bit undercooked and your potatoes are too spongy. I think I can taste burned unions too.”

“I knew it!” And to verify his remark, she grabbed a spoon and sampled it herself. “Gah, it tastes even worse than yesterday.”

He eyed her warily when she dropped her spoon and reached for her wand. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to vanish it,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No. I won’t allow it.” He pulled the pot as if to protect it. “This is my kitchen so it’s my food and I’m starving.”

“You’re really going to eat it?” she clarified in disbelief. At his nod, she put down her wand, staring at him with an incredulous look. “Up to you then,” she conceded, then added, “I also made trifle for dessert.”

“Good. Now let me enjoy my dinner.”

Ginny took the stool beside him, watching him consuming her experimental cooking amusedly. He didn’t mind it though, as far as he’s concerned this meal was perfect. It’s not about how it tasted, but more like how it made him feel.

“If only I know how to make Pig in Puff. Not that Mum will let me make it for silly thing like cooking competition, but at least I’ll know the trick,” she lamented.

“Pig in Puff?”

“The signature cuisine of House Weasley, it is like our family heirloom,” she told him. The dejected frown in her face instantly disappeared, was replaced by delighted spark in her eyes. “Oh, you have to try it. It tastes heavenly, you can even use ‘exquisite’ to describe it! It’s called Pig in Puff, but it’s actually a big chunk of beef wrapped in puff pastry then baked.”

“Sound like Beef Wellington to me,” he noted, scooping more potatoes into his mouth.

“Similar, but different.” She began to explain, “While Beef Wellington is coated with pâté and parma ham, we use cabbage or other fresh green vegetable to wrapped it. It’s very tricky because you must have the dry and crusty pastry on the outside yet the vegetable should retain its crispness and juicy beef in the inside. It’s impossible to achieve it with Muggle way. Timing and wand movement are very important to get the perfect result.”

“Why don’t you ask your Mum to teach you then?”

“It’s family heirloom, Harry, it has to stay within the family – male line. A Weasley matriarch will pass down the recipe to a Weasley bride after she births a son. For generations, it becomes the pride of Weasley’s bride, a family legacy. So unless I marry one of my Weasley cousin and bear a son, there’s no way I will know the recipe. Mum will teach Fleur how to cook it if her baby is a boy and in Angelina’s case, even if she also has a boy unless George marries her then no recipe for her.”

“Wow, what a story for a meal.”

Ginny nodded in assent, then continued, “The back story is more interesting. It’s actually inspired by pangolin. So one of my ancestor – I forget his name – returned from his trip from Asia. He told his wife about how he had never tasted a meat so tender yet surprisingly the animal itself had such hard armoury scales over its body, how it would curl into a ball when defending itself. It gave her an idea to make a pie filled with steak but the husband mistook it as roasted pig when she served it. This story is always recounted every time it’s served on the table, it’s a tradition. On top of that, it’s only been served for special occasion, you know, like for Christmas feast after birth of a son or when we host a very important guest.”

She let out a soft chuckle, her eyes gazing into space dreamily. Like moth to a flame, his full attention was drawn to her, his plate was left forgotten.

“I only ever had it once, Christmas after Albert’s birth. I was 7 and because Grandma passed away the year before, Mum was the one who filled the role. I remember staying in Ireland for a month with Mum to train Aunt Carole. Sadly I was too young to remember what she did.”

“I want it too,” he blurted out all of sudden.

“If Fleur has a son then you may be able to taste it on Christmas next year because I don’t see George marry in near future.” wave him off

“Not the meal, but the tradition,” he clarified. “Let’s have our own family tradition, Gin.”

Her body stiffened hearing that, her back shifted so she sat straighter. It was only three seconds but the silence that descended between them couldn’t be more pronounced. Then, slowly she turned her face to stare at him, giving him a perplexed look. Her eyes expressed both confuse and surprise.

“Sometimes I wonder maybe it’s my fate that my life will never be far from danger, like the Death itself is always following me. But if there’s one thing that I know for sure, Gin, doesn’t matter how long my life will be, I want to spend it with you. So Gin, will you marry me?”

She only blinked, twice. Other than that, it seemed like not a single muscle on her was moving. It made him uncomfortable and uneasiness crept in him. Unconsciously his hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously.

“Er, of course I know you want to pursue your career and I love you for that and I’ll always support you, but I want to be with you, but your parents will not let you live with me without me marrying you so let’s get married,” he rambled. All of it was said in an incoherent rush as each word seemed to mash with the next.

Eyebrows raised, she tilted her head. A brief twitch on the corner of her mouth suggested her amusement. Her lips parted as if wanted to say something only to close it again before her forehead creased indicating processing of thought. Which immediately made him panic.

“God, it does sound wrong! Let me rephrase it. I do want to marry you, Gin, but I don’t want to force you to choose between me and your career,” he babbled, wringing his hands in frustration at his inability to communicate his intention. “What I mean is, until you’re ready, we can live like housemate. I love you, Gin, I–”

Whatever word he wanted to say was muffled as Ginny swooped in and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. If it’s not for his trained reflex as an Auror, he would be toppled from his stool and both of them would end up on floor.

“Yes, Harry Potter. I will marry you.”

“You do? Wait, I have the ring somewhere.” He extricated his body from her hold to summon a small black velvet box. It landed smoothly into his hand. Without ceasing their eye contact, he went down on one knee.

“Okay, Let’s do it again.” Taking a deep breath, he began, “Ginevra Molly Weasley, I–”

“I already said yes. Just put it on!” she exclaimed, eagerly proffered her left hand to him.

Barely able to hold himself from grinning broadly, he muttered, “This is not what I have in mind when I want to propose you.” He opened the lid though, stumbled twice for his excitement, and slid the ring onto her finger.

“It’s okay. You can take me to some fancy restaurant and propose to me again,” she said cheerily, examining the trinket currently adorning her ring finger. “In fact, do that. But I will not return the ring, it’s mine now.”

Later that night they moved to the living room. An empty bowl of which had been full with trifle until two minutes ago sat undisturbed on the table while they both were relaxing on the settee. She was leaning against his side with her head on his shoulder and he had his arm around her. They just talked about nothing substantial, predominantly by Ginny of course since Harry was quite content to listen and simply focus on the warm body against him.

He watched her as she lifted her left hand in front of her. She tilted her hand back and forth like she had done numerous times for awhile ago, admiring her new ring again. He didn’t really care about jewellery but when he saw it, he felt that it would be perfect for her. The ring had a coral-coloured ruby surrounded by halo of 10 diamonds, red for Gryffindor and he always heard that girl loved diamonds.

By her reaction, it seemed like his intuition was right all along. “You like it?” he voiced his thought.

She looked up at him and he was almost blinded by her brilliant smile. “I love it!”

“It’s a family heirloom,” he explained, just so he wouldn’t do something rash like to pounce her. “I found it in my vault few months ago, the goblin said it’s already there at least for five generations. It’s not too contentious so you can wear it anywhere.”

“Few months ago, huh?” she echoed coyly.

“Well, actually I already have several plans to propose you, like after you win the game at the pitch or taking you to fancy restaurant and propose. I even prepared the speech, but look like I mess it up.”

“It’s okay,” she waved him off, but quickly followed by a mischievous giggle. “We can go through your plan later, all of it. I surely will not refuse fancy dinner or public love declaration. It would be a shame if I never hear the speech you’ve been painstakingly composed.”

He groaned, regretting his slip-up. It’s an open secret how he disliked doing speech.

“Do I really have to?” he implored. “What if I trade it with a fancy dinner and I write down my planned proposal so you can read it?”

“Hey, that’s not the deal.”

“It’s embarrassing, Gin.” There’s no use to hide it, he might had better chance by being honest. Or maybe tried to negotiate. “A fancy dinner _and _bouquet of flower at least once every month for life?”

“For life?”

“Until I breathe my last.”

She rubbed her chin, acting of pondering his offer but he knew that she’d agree.

“Fine, I’ll consider it,” she relented. “But no re-negotiation about waiting. You can’t expect me to pop up babies right away, my career will be my priority for next couple of years.”

He also hadn’t settle in his job yet so he had no plan to start family in near future as well, but that’s not what caught his interest. “Babies?”

“I come from big family, I certainly don’t want my kid to be an only child.”

“I’d love that.” He grinned from ear to ear.

“But not in near future, at least 5 years,” she warned him sternly.

“Whatever you want, dear.” Surprisingly, it was so easy to say it.

“Oh, I love how it sounds. Glad I don’t need to train you,” she crowed. And to proved her appreciation, she gave him a brief chaste kiss.

“But let’s keep this a secret for now. I want to concentrate on my match and I don’t need Mum terrorising me about wedding preparation. Which mean, don’t say anything to Ron and in fairness, Hermione as well.”

He was being agreeable this night, too happy of how the night went. “If that’s what you want.”

“Give me the ring box. I can’t wear this without alerting anyone, especially Hermione. Not that I can wear it when playing, so glamouring is not an option.” Mirth returned to her eyes when she added, “And meanwhile, you can start to make reservation for your first promised dinner.”

It would take a lot of planning, especially because of potential scheduling conflict between them, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t solve. Compare to his other problems, if he’s willing to put more effort he could take it under control. And he’s more than willing to do it. For after all this time, he finally felt at peace. He’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let’s check the timeline:  
Chapter 11 => January 2001  
Chapter 12 => Jun 2001  
Chapter 13 => Jul 2001  
Chapter 14 => August 2001  
Chapter 15 => September 2001  
Chapter 16 => March 2002  
Chapter 17 => August 2002  
Chapter 18-20 => September 2002  
Chapter 21 => October 2002  
Chapter 22-23 => November 2002  
Chapter 24 => November-December 2002  



	25. Matrimony

“Hey, we’re here to celebrate my birthday! Stop talking about wedding!” Ron exclaimed in annoyance.

“You will have your birthday every year, Ronald,” Ginny retorted sourly, looking up from her notes. “but my wedding will only happen once. In ten weeks, mind you. So it’s obvious which one is more important.”

This was another Weasley’s tradition after the war, if someone’s birthday fall on Saturday their weekly Sunday brunch would change to Saturday dinner for celebration. This year was Ron’s and it’s not often he got this kind of celebration where everyone could attend, thus Hermione wasn’t surprised at all by his outburst.

However, three weeks ago Ginny had announced her engagement to Harry _and_ their (read: her) plan to marry in May so predictably every conversation in any family gathering afterward would never far from wedding plan. Usually it was Mrs Weasley who initiated it, tonight oddly it was Ginny who brought it up to the point that it seemed she intentionally wanted to hijack Ron’s party.

“We can still postpone it, dear, more time to prepare. Nothing has been arranged yet, no harm if you change the date,” said Mrs Weasley gently. This was not her first attempt persuading her daughter. “Fall wedding maybe, it will be nice with the colour.”

Her counterargument was also same as the previous one. “Mum, I explained why this is the only available time, right? Besides, I already have everything planned to detail, all what’s left is the execution.” She waved her notes to emphasise her points.

It’s evident that Mrs Weasley wanted to make huge celebration for their union. Unfortunately between Ginny’s Quidditch calendar and Harry’s unpredictable work, there’s little option in picking the date unless they delayed it indefinitely – which Ginny was strongly opposed. Or so it seemed.

Admitting defeat for now, she moved to Angelina. “You sure you don’t want this, dear?”

This was not the first occurrence either but before any sound could escape her opening mouth, George stepped out from the doorway, his five weeks old baby in his arms, and intervened.

“Stop pestering her, Mum. He wants you,” he added in gentler tone, handing the fussing baby to his partner. Angelina quickly excused herself to nurse him as the baby started whimpering, demanding his meal.

“But Little Fred–,”

“–is a Weasley,” he finished her sentence. “Angie and I agreed that he will be Weasley.” Before Mrs Weasley could launch another, he nipped it ahead. “And _if_ we decide to marry, it will be because we want it, not because we have baby together.”

His tone was firm, clearly indicating that he wouldn’t accept any contention. Sending a warning last look to his mother, he spun and left the room. It was very rare for the normally playful George to be so stern and serious, but Angelina had regaled them on how their sleeping pattern was badly disturbed by their new baby so his tiredness likely was a factor.

Mrs Weasley seemed still to have some say in the matter though, only to be sidetracked by Bill’s arrival. Half asleep Vicky nestled her head on her father’s neck.

“It’s almost her bedtime. We should get her home,” he informed his wife.

Fleur nodded demurely. She extended her hand to her husband to help her to her feet. For an eight months pregnant woman, she personified the term of yummy-mummy to perfection. Her pregnancy only amplified her beauty.

“I still have chocolate cake in the kitchen, do you want to take it with you, dear?”

“Sure. Thank you, Molly.”

As Fleur and Bill said goodbye, leaving the table with Molly in tow, Harry also rose from his chair.

“Come on, Teddy. It’s time to return you to your Nana,” he told his godson who’d been sitting quietly beside him like a lovely little cherub he was.

“But Ginny say I have important job.” He turned to Ginny for an affirmation.

When the first word of wedding planning had been uttered at the end of the dinner, one by one the men wisely started to find excuse to leave the table. All except Harry and Ron, being the groom and his best man respectively hence their ‘participation’ was a must – as proclaimed by the bride to-be. While Victoire chose to be with her father to ‘practise’ in her preparation to be big sister with Little Fred, Teddy stayed after he’d been told of his _very important_ role as pageboy. Thus gone were all Harry’s excuse to leave and there’s no way he’d let Ron make him the only adult male there.

“You do, love,” Ginny assured him. “In fact, tomorrow I will go to your home to have private talk about this. Just you and me. What do you think?”

“Tomorrow?” he chirped enthusiastically.

She nodded vehemently. “Yes.” Then she paused, as if she suddenly remembered something. “But don’t you think we’ll need to get your Nana’s permission first? Do you think you can help me talk to your Nana tonight so by tomorrow she already agreed?”

He beamed. “Okay.”

With the two gone, it left only Hermione, Ginny, and Ron at the table. Under normal circumstance this wouldn’t be a problem but while Hermione kept her stand as observer like before, Ron started to become restless. Her suspicion that something was brewing between the siblings seemed to be on spot. For whatever it was, Ginny did this intentionally.

“Stay where you are, Ronald Bilius Weasley,” she hissed. Her tone was ice cold, enough to freeze him mid standing.

Hermione knew better than to involve herself in this siblings quarrel, but she figured her presence here was still required, _just in case_. Therefore, she remained still on her chair, mouth shut while eyes carefully continued assessing the situation. Clearly Ginny had a bone to pick with her brother and by the look of it, it wouldn’t end well for him.

“I’ll advise you to take a note on what we’re about to discuss for I reckon you may need it for your future.”

The last word was dripping with acid that she gathered her decision to stay was right; Ron would need rescuing very soon. Not that he appeared to notice, judging by how his posture had slackened off considerably which confirmed his previous reaction was likely only due to the mention of his full name.

He groaned. “This won’t be the first time I participate in a wedding, Gin. Besides, I’ll deal with Harry more than you,” he huffed petulantly.

“If you say so,” she sneered menacingly. “Then you won’t care if I make Louisa Phillips as my second bridesmaids, will you?”

He got the message at last. Glancing to the door, he growled, his words were almost inaudibly, “You don’t even like her.”

“Let’s just say I change my mind after I find out why Mum dragged me to have another ‘talk’ last month.” She shot him a scathing glare. “Anything you want to say, dear brother of mine?”

Colours were drained from his face in a second. But this was Ron, he quickly went to defensive.

“He’s been grinning like a loon. There’s only few thing that can make a bloke behaving like that. How should I know that you two were engaged?”

And it finally clicked in Hermione’s mind, how two particular seemingly random past incidents were connected. One was the boys abrupt dynamic change around New Year which appeared to be out of nowhere since within her knowledge, the boys didn’t have any falling out. It was one sided on Ron’s part, Harry had confided how confused he was for he couldn’t recall what had he done to warrant a cold shoulder from his oldest friend.

The other was between Ginny and her mother. It was quite a sight to witness Ginny’s fury that day. Considering that she’d just returned from her routine mid season training camp, her first guess was she lost the game night again. Her conjecture was proved wrong in an instant because right after, she sprouted variety of expletive which could be summarised as her displeasure of another ‘witch-and-wizard conversation’ with her mother. She detested it the first time and sufficed to say, her feeling hadn’t changed any bit. It’s no wonder that Ginny didn’t visit the Burrow for awhile until she dropped the news on her engagement.

“And what?” she spat, glaring at him. “You thought he got lucky and you suddenly want to play protective brother by selling me out to Mum?! It’s none of your business, Ronald, I’m free to do whatever I want. You have no right to do that!”

As the mood in the air gradually rose, Hermione promptly formulating which course of action she’d take if she wanted to play referee in this approaching show down. This was Ron, jumping to conclusion without proper assessment was not unknown tendency of his. Still, this was originated from simple misunderstanding, a brawl between two grown up siblings seemed to be rather excessive.

“Do what?” a cheerful voice broke the tension momentarily.

Harry rejoined them, obvious of the proverbial dark cloud hanging above. His jolly expression would only mean that his short trip went in a positive note.

“Ron was saying that he fancies a private audience with Mum to discuss his genital,” Ginny replied, her tone clipped.

By Ron’s accusing glare, he got a clue what this conversation was about. Offering him a sheepish apologetic grin, he muttered, “Sorry, I slipped up. I didn’t know about your mum.”

“Why you have to marry my sister, mate?!” He racked his hair in frustration. He then turned to Ginny again, hissing, “I get your warning, okay, but don’t drag her into this. Your issue is with me.”

Seeing an opening, Hermione chimed in, careful to maintain neutral tone. “Gin, I know this is your prerogative, but if you really want to have additional bridesmaids, wouldn’t it better if it’s one of your teammates?” she reasoned in a placating tone to the irritated siblings.

“And Ron, she’s our friend too. It would be strange not to invite her and since she doesn’t many people amongst the guests, it’s more make sense if she sits with us than with your Dad’s colleagues or your families. You can’t keep her away from your mum forever.”

Ron and Louisa had been dating for several months, but for some reason he still kept it a secret. Only handful of people had been told about their relationship status complete with a warning not to tell anyone, especially his mother. Hermione had several theories on the why, but still she couldn’t comprehend the necessity of it. Nonetheless, it’s not her place to concern about it.

“You’re discussing about guest list already?” Harry piped in, attracting their attention to him. “Good. I have a favour to ask from you two.”

Somehow he managed to diffuse the heavy air around only to present them with another grave subject. “I want to invite Malfoy,” he stated straightforwardly.

She reckoned she must have a similar feature of surprise as Ron’s on her face, though she supposed his reason was different than hers. The lack of reaction from Ginny indicated that she had known this beforehand. After all as his bride-to-be, Harry would have asked her opinion and approval first.

“Malfoy? You mean _the_ Draco _ferret_ Malfoy?”

Harry raised his hands placatingly, trying to soothe him. Coming from Ron, this was not unexpected but to his credit, it was more of disbelieve than bolt out anger.

“He’s been my partner for over three years,” he explained in an even tone. “He’s changed and I want to give him a chance.”

“By inviting him to your wedding?” Ron replied incredulously. He let out a sarcastic cackle. “Do you think he’ll be willing to deign his presence to us peasant?”

But Harry was prepared on this contention, likely this was surfaced during his conversation with his fiancée. “If I publicly invite him, he’ll have no choice but to attend. He won’t miss an opportunity to regain his reputation too,” he expounded.

“Even though it will be a private ceremony, the wedding will still attract huge publicity. Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly will not miss it. And him being in my wedding, with the well known history between us, will send good message of peace, forgiveness, and unity. After all, we didn’t go through a war only to head to another just because we can’t remove prejudice in our society.”

Once more Hermione and Ron wore similar expression, of bewilderment this time, dumbfounded by his ‘oration’. She knew that he no longer saw everything in black and white like his younger self – in part due to Snape’s memory – and he also had been mending his relationship with his cousin, but it’s still surprising to see him went further.

“Golly! Since when are you into Ministry’s propaganda?” he said teasingly.

“Oh, come on, Ron!” Then he shifted to Hermione. “You see how he is in the Ministry right, Hermione?”

“I what?!” She was jolted out from her stupor. Surely Harry didn’t find out about her past secret _rendezvous,_ right?

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how he is in DMLE, he’s even attended one of your class,” he elaborated. “You can see that he’s not the same Malfoy we knew at school, right? Yes, I still want to hex him sometimes, but he’s decent now.”

Before Harry could sing more praise of Draco’s good quality or how he had changed, Ron put a stop on it.

“I get it, Harry. I already told you once, I have better thing to do than nursing a grudge over past teenage fight,” Ron assured him, though a wicked smile on his face implied that he’s not done in teasing him. “So what do you want from us?”

“Just keep him company occasionally, okay. Obviously he’ll be the only Slytherin in our year, so he may not have anyone to chat. I still have to work with him and I don’t want him to make my day miserable just because he thinks that this is my way to humiliate him or something.”

“No problem. As long as he doesn’t start provoking me, I’m good,” he acceded. “But tell my sister, no more bridesmaids.” He said it to Harry but his eyes were on Ginny.

The siblings were instantly having another staring contest, as if they could throw daggers from their eyes merely by willpower alone. Despite that, there’s a little doubt that Ginny would concede. She wouldn’t be willing to risk a commotion between her brother and mother in her own wedding just for spite.

***

One would naturally assume the fact that Ginny was going to marry the boy – now a man – she’d had crush on since she’s eleven would make her wanting for grand ceremony, a wedding she might have pictured in great details when she’s a young girl. Adulthood tended to make her leaning more on practicality than grandeur, although she seemed to still hold on some particular details from her dream wedding.

When Ginny told her about her engagement and consecutively asking her to be her maid of honour, Hermione expected there’d be much running around from place to place considering the time constraint, even for a small ceremony. But then when she read how detailed her list was, she reckoned that there’s not much she’d have to do. From flowers to foods, dress to guests, Ginny had already made a detailed list not only on what and which but also on where and how. That’s how she deduced that she’d been engaged for awhile.

Apparently adulthood also brought secrecy.

“Want to share what’s on your mind, Hermione?”

She looked up from her portion stack of RSVP cards.

“Nothing,” she mumbled weakly.

Ginny pushed the seating plan she’d been working on to the middle of the table. Just two weeks after the showdown at the Burrow, they’re already in the process to finalise the seating plan. When Mrs Weasley had made her remark, she certainly would never guess that the invitations had already been printed and ready to be sent the next morning.

She folded her arms on her chest, staring at her intensely. “I’m listening ...,”

She sighed helplessly. When Ginny was making that face, she wouldn’t back down until she satisfied with what she got.

“I know it’s not my business, but are you sure about this, Gin?” At her questioning raised eyebrows, she continued, “I mean, both of you are still young, just starting your careers. You said it yourself, next year you’ll be very busy with Quidditch. Do you think it’s wise to marry now? What about having long engagement?”

Even if there were still 5 matches left, the outcome of those matches wouldn’t affect Harpies’ standing. They’re guaranteed to win the League this season. Which was why Ginny, as first liner, was given a necessary break since she’d only play one match amongst those 5 matches. Come summer, the team would go through rigorous training and matches as they’d play on The International Quidditch Tournament while defending their title on the League. Hence, spring was the only she’d have for wedding. That was what she said to her mother.

Except, the same reason was also exactly why Hermione thought that starting a married life didn’t sound as a good decision. Rationally speaking, it would be tricky to juggling new life style – not just adapting to live under the same roof with new person, but also the new role as wife – while her career was taking off. Multitasking was one thing, but still the risk was too high.

A sardonic chortle certainly was not what she expected to get for her genuine concern.

“Long engagement? You’re joking, right?” she said in derisive tone. “Can you imagine what Mum can do if I give her enough time? She’ll insist to do it the old way. As the first born, Bill can get away thanks to Voldemort fiasco and Fleur being French. But I’m her only daughter _and_ I’m marrying Harry Potter, there’s no way she’d back down.”

Obviously they both saw things differently because she found it hard to contemplate why the type of wedding ceremony could weigh more than the marriage itself. Her expression must have reflected her thought and Ginny noticed it.

“Sorry, I forget that you’re Muggle-born, of course you didn’t know about old wizarding marriage custom. It takes lot of preparation, not to mention tiring and bothersome,” she remarked. Exhaling a distasteful sigh, she reclined to the sofa. Clearly she didn’t keen to explain it to her, but she did.

“In total, it can last for three days and careful timing, Hermione. So it starts a day before the actual wedding ceremony,” she began. “Separately, at their own parents’ home, the bride and the groom will go through something called ‘Purification’ performed by their House’s elders which has to be concluded just after sunset. Please don’t ask me to elaborate what it entails, I’m not well verse on it.

“Then the groom and his entourage – mostly his core family – will go to the bride’s home. The bride’s family will provide accommodation – like tent or such – for them to stay while the groom’s parents and elders will ‘inspect’ the bride. The so called accommodation should be exactly one mile from the house and the perimeter warded.

“It is said that the bride hasn’t met his elders’ approval, the only way he still can be with her is to kidnap her at night and consummate their relationship so both side won’t have any choice but to marry them in the morning. If she gets an ok, Handfasting and Bonding will be performed in the morning in front of the whole wedding congregation followed by wedding breakfast as a sign from her family welcoming their new son-in-law. Then there’s Blessing which will be attended by the bride’s guests who will also give their blessing and move to the groom’s. Wait, I think I miss something.”

She paused, a frown etched between her brows. She counted her fingers while mumbling, then nodded to herself before continued, “Anyway, there’s Despatch ceremony then she’ll be brought to his home – only accompanied by the similar entourage like the groom prior. When they arrive, there’ll be another Blessing – this time from the groom’s side – then the Welcoming. All of it must finish _just_ after sunset, no sooner no later, due to some superstition.

“Later on, while the guests enjoying the Feast, basically dinner and entertainment, the newlywed will be led by both sets of parents and elders to a prepared tent for the Bedding Ceremony where they suppose to consummate their marriage, but I’m pretty sure they will be too tired to do anything other than sleeping.”

“Wow, it does sound very archaic. Don’t tell me the consummation has to be witnessed.”

“Of course not! Who the hell will do that?!” she reproved. Her feeling at the mere idea was made clear by the disgusted look on her face.

Hermione could recite at least 5 cultures that had the said tradition complete with how one was worse than the other in term of invading the married couple’s first night, but it’s a story for another times so she just gave a tepid shrug.

“They’ll just give the final Blessing as the couple seated at the bed, exit the tent, and cast protection circle around the tent so nobody can go in or _out_. They’ll open it in the morning, then her parents will collect her Maidenhood blood – supposedly from the consummation – and take it home as parting token. And that’s the end of the whole marriage ceremony.”

_That _managed to make her speechless.

“Rather repulsive, right? No chance I’d ever do it.”

Well, there’re parents who kept their children’s umbilical cord so perhaps every community had their own strange – to put it mildly – custom. She closed her mouth that she didn’t realise was hung open by the information. A thought came up in her mind.

“Wait, Harry’s parents are no more, so even if your Mum wants it, you can’t.”

Ginny snorted. “Oh yes, we can. Or more accurately, my Mum can make it happen. Parents and elders are interchangeable, for the procession you can have either or both. Harry, or more likely Mum, will only need to find his closest relative from his paternal side to fill the role of elders, it will do. Dad knows many people by working in Ministry and Harry is an Auror, it would be easy for Mum to guilt-trip them to do it for her.”

She leaned forward to reach the seating plan, signaling that she considered this conversation was over.

“By the way, Harry and I decide to wait to have baby. So I’ll need your help to arrange a visit to Muggle doctor. Muggles seems to have more variety in contraception than what I initially thought and I’m interested to know. I can’t just rely on Harry to wear that thing called condom, right?” she added, looking utterly nonplussed when saying it.

Good to know that they didn’t decide to jump into family life straight away, that would be one more reason why this marriage was not a good idea. In fact, Ginny should have answered her with this than lecturing her about old marriage custom.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice that you’re engaged,” she stated, passing her RSVP list she compiled earlier. “Especially Harry, he used to be very easy to read and predictable. I can’t believe I didn’t catch any sign that he planned to propose.”

“Well, Harry is a good Seeker. Hovering on the side and next thing you know, he already caught the Snitch,” she commented cheerily. “Hmm, Wilbur will come alone, I can move him elsewhere then.”

“Oh please, not another Quidditch reference again,” Hermione moaned.

Without removing her eyes from the seating plan, she spoke, “More often than not, it proves to be quite spot on to assess how men will be in relationship, certainly better than your Muggle zodiac.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, take George for example. He’s a Beater, unpredictable and never plays by common rules, a type you’ll seek if you like an adventure. A Chaser will pursue you, but just like Beater, unless you can keep their interest on you, you’ll never know what they’ll do. Then most likely to be loyal are Seeker and Keeper. Harry is a Seeker, hovering in the perimeter for one target, only make a move when he sees an opening and either he’ll get it or miss it. You’ll never see a Seeker type incessantly pursuing girl like Chaser type.”

Hermione snorted, half amused. “Is that why you’re with Harry? Because he’ll always loyal to you while you’re ‘playing around’?”

“Exactly! You get the gist. If I ‘fly’ too far, he’ll catch me like a Snitch before I cross the line,” Ginny confirmed. “And Ron is a fine example of a Keeper. A constant fixture in your life who you’ll always know exactly where to find because he’s always there, waiting. For a man in this type, you have to be the one who do all the hard work both when initiate it and, if it ends up go pear shape, to end it.”

Her feature suddenly became subdue. “Talking about Ron, instead about Harry and me, it’s him you should be worried.”

“Why?” At that, Ginny shot her a meaningful look. “Ah, you mean about Louisa. If it’s about him keeping his relationship secret, I don’t see anything wrong about it. Maybe they still want to enjoy it just between them, not ready to share it with the world – which they don’t have any obligation to do since it is between them two.”

It’s not that she had any right to criticise Ron anyway. She certainly also didn’t want to explain her strange friendship with Draco to anyone.

“They seem to like each other. As their friend, I think it’s more important than whether they flaunt their dating life to us or not. I certainly prefer their current discretion than a repeat performance of Won-Won and Lav-Lav,” she bristled, in which Ginny responded with a snicker. “Just give her a chance, Gin. It’s obvious that she makes him happy.”

It surely took time for her to sort out her feeling on Ron’s new relationship status, but she managed. She no longer felt that tugging pang in her chest when she saw them together and although she only had ever seen them kissing twice, she didn’t feel any urge to send a flock of canaries to anyone. If she could make peace with her feeling and genuinely glad for Ron’s happiness, there’s no need for Ginny to antagonise Louisa for her sake.

“You seriously didn’t notice?” she cried in disbelief. “She’s basically the French blonde version of you. It’s like Ron still hung up on you and he projects you on Louisa. It’s not healthy!”

“How can you say that? We’re not!” she denied.

“Oh, let’s see,” She started to count using her fingers, “a know-it-all, arrogant like she’ll always know better than anyone else, stubborn and never want to listen anyone’s opinion because she always know better, which make her insufferable most of the time. Godric, I salute Ron for not losing his mind by now for dating her.”

She could feel her heart beat picking up, pumping blood faster through her veins. If those characteristic was what made Louisa similar to her, then it meant those words were also directed to her.

“Well, you manage to tolerate me.” She tried to hold her tone, but some snippiness still managed to slip.

“To be frank, your controlling tendency can be really unbearable sometimes, even Mum is not that bad,” she remarked nonchalantly while flipping through her cards. “I can tolerate living with you because I’ve known you since I was eleven.”

The buzzing in her ears was getting louder.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” she bristled defensively. “I’m not aware that reminding you to not leave the door unlocked or to turn the tap off when you’re not using it can be considered as controlling. What can you say about you telling me what I should wear or how I should use my spare time, then? Self-centred? That the world needs to revolve around you the way you like it?”

Ginny’s eyes were snapped from the parchment. “I certainly am not!” Her tone had an edge in it. Temperature in the room was rising. “Maybe if you can deal with your self-esteem issue, I don’t ever need to tell you that.”

She was opening her mouth for rebuttal but interrupted by a knock on the front door. It must be the pizza they had ordered.

Hermione rose from the floor, mumbled, “I’ll get it,” while Ginny also stood and subsequently murmured, “I’ll make tea.”

For the next hour, they continued their work in silence. The only sound that occasionally could be heard was a cling of tea cup under the unspoken agreement of cease fire and that there’d be no revisit of the previous quarrel for quite some time. Let bygones be bygones.

“Hermione, you still have that blue floral scarf, don’t you? Can I borrow it for the week?” Ginny broke the silence after awhile.

Too immersed in her task of adjusting the food calculation with the final number of guest which she almost finished, she plainly replied, “Sure. I think it’s in the drawer.” One more item and she’s done.

That’s when she heard Ginny shout, “I can’t find it, Hermione!”

“Left drawer, Gin,” she shouted back as she stood up to head to her room lets Ginny ended up rummaging her whole wardrobe.

Her steps fell into immediate stop when she saw Ginny, standing next to her drawer, with a dark blue cloak on her hand. Heaven above, she had entirely forgotten that she still had it.

“Blimey! Is this gazar, Hermione?”

Rousing from her shock, she only uttered, “What’s gazar?”

“The fabric,” she answered brusquely. “Merlin, I think it _is_ silk wool gazar! How much you spend for this? No, that’s wrong. Why the hell you bought a _gazar cloak_?!”

“That’s not mine.”

“Then whose is it? It’s in your drawer,” she prodded.

“A friend. I accidentally spilled my orange juice on it so I had to bring it to laundry service before I can return it.”

She’s actually speaking the truth, all of it. The cloak was inside her handbag for quite sometimes, every time she had wanted to return it to Draco one or other thing had happened that made her fail to return it. Until one day, she hadn’t closed her drink bottle properly before storing it into her bag and her orange juice had spilled all over inside the bag.

Two of her books would forever blotched (she had tried various spells to restore it, but none had worked) and same on the cloak. She eventually had given up and brought it to laundry service before she tempted to make another attempt that would destroy it instead. Most likely she unintentionally had put it into her drawer after she took it from laundry and then had forgotten of its existence.

“Your friend must have had lot of spare money to have something like this. Merlin, you’re lucky that the laundry service managed to clean it without any damage.”

Well, that certainly explained the sour expression she got from the laundry worker and the ridiculously pricey bill. But now that she knew this was no ordinary cloak, not to mention how long she’s been keeping it, sending it by owl was just rude. Thus, one more reason why she had to brave herself to face Draco, no more avoiding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few trivia I’ve found when I was looking for inspiration for the wedding custom Ginny’s been talking about:  
\- Javanese has something called Siraman Soak, which is a cleansing ritual for the bride and the groom and is held the evening before the wedding day. Basically they just sit on a chair then one by one their elders and parents will pour water over their head.  
\- Traditional Indian wedding can last 3 days (more if the whole pre-wedding rite days prior is counted). There’s ritual in the bride’s home first; in the night before with several rituals, priest, pampering the bride, and other else, then the wedding itself in the morning. Sometime the bride will be carried by her father into a car (or horse or whatever they use travel to the groom’s home). When they arrive, there are many more rituals of welcoming the bride lead to the wedding night.  
\- Handfasting nowadays is more associated to Neopaganism but around the 12th to the 17th century in England it’s simply a term for “engagement to be married”. These days, some couples still incorporated “handfasting” in their wedding (it’s not legally binding by law, though). In Church of England wedding, there’s a moment where the priest’s stole is wrapped around the hands of the couple just before the blessing.  
\- Bride-kidnapping (differ from elopement) is actually prevalent in many places around the world and still has been practiced in some places. In some place, a man can literally kidnap woman he likes (in some case going as far as to rape her) to force her to marry him then he’ll go to her family to apologise and offer gift as restitution (some countries in Africa). In other, it’s consensual and actually part of wedding ritual because the groom is from lower class so they can’t marry in regular custom (such as in Bali where the bride will be left in a designated place to be ‘kidnapped’ by the groom complete with a mock ‘chase’ usually led by the bride’s brother or relatives) or to avoid bride price like in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.  
\- Bedding ceremony is another ‘popular’ tradition. There’s a lot of culture that has this particular tradition, including in Europe. It varies from leading the couple to their wedding chamber then blessing their bed and leave, to witnessing the consummation itself (in mediaeval era, especially among royals). Presenting a blood stain sheet is even required in some cultures (e.g Tonga or Kiribati), both as proof of consummation and the bride’s virginity.  
(source: Wikipedia and various sites)
> 
> PS: I've never seen any cloak made of gazar fabric (nor knowing if it even exists). My aunt is a tailor and one day I found this ridiculously pricey fabric for a dress she’d been working on, and since Draco is a Malfoy I can imagine him owning this kind of unnecessary pricey thing. Btw, if you’re confused about the cloak, it’s the one from chapter 5, so yes, she’s been keeping it for over 3 years.


	26. Family

Just like what Ginny wanted, there’s no unnecessary fanfare in her wedding, yet it was beautiful in its simplicity. Unlike Bill’s wedding, Ginny chose to hold it in the afternoon while the sun was still up. The weather was forecasted to be perfect for the whole week that she decided to forgo the tent and utilised the canopy of trees at the orchard. A very good insight because the light that seeping through the leaves and its shadow dancing on the grass made a natural fascinating decoration on its own.

The sequence was also rather straightforward. While Ginny was preparing herself at the Burrow, Harry and the boys were greeting the incoming guest. At the scheduled time, he left to fetch his mother-in-law-to-be as Ron ensuring that everything for the ceremony was ready and in place. It officially started when he appeared with Molly on his elbow, escorted her to her chair before taking his place beside Ron on the dais. Then right on cue, Hermione entered holding Victoire on her right and Teddy on her left hand. And at last, the bride arrived, walked down the aisle by her father.

She was stunning. Her ivory satin floor-length dress hugged her figure nicely. It had capped sleeves and cowl neck front, enticing without flaunting her décolletage inappropriately, instead it gave a vibe of classic elegance. She wore no veil or tiara, her half updo was adorned with lily of the valley. Her appearance was completed by white lily bouquet, a nod for Harry’s mother.

The sun had started to make her descent by that point. When the couple finished declaring their vows and proceeded for their first kiss as husband and wife, the sky was changing colour, bathing them in sparkling golden light dust. No matter what the superstition Ginny had eluded about ending the ceremony close to sunset was, one thing Hermione found for certain was that it created a beautiful image, almost magical even.

Later for the reception, the guests were then directed to the back garden where a tent had already been erected. Other than Mr Weasley short speech, there’s not much formality, if any. Ginny wanted to keep it casual, she didn’t want to be displayed so guests would laugh or clap politely when someone recounted random anecdotes about her or Harry. And if that’s what the bride want, then she’d get it.

Putting aside their common friends and close acquaintances, the wedding congregation was dominated by the bride’s. Just by their hair colour, Hermione could point at least 15 guests who were most likely related to Weasley. Added to that were her relatives from Prewett side of the family, couple of her father’s close friends, and her teammates. On the other hand, only 7 invites were pure Harry’s – almost no relation to Ginny whatsoever – and amongst them were Petunia and Dudley Dursley.

He actually had invited his uncle, but he declined. This showed how much progress he had with his aunt and cousin, especially after the ‘tongue incident’ years ago. He seemed to be a bit wary to touch any food and beverage that’s been served though, despite it’s so obvious that he wanted it from the way he kept glancing at it, licking his lips once in awhile.

“I would recommend the pie,” Hermione pointed to the buffet table. “Mrs Weasley makes the best pie I’ve ever tried, especially her Shepherd’s pie.”

To convince him, she placed one piece onto her plate and took a bite in front of him. After nothing happened in the next two minutes, he followed her lead while she rejoined his mother. This early, George wouldn’t dare to spike anything – _yet_. Although more precautions might have needed to be taken to the refreshment table later on the night.

“So, Miss Granger, you’re saying your parents are dentists?” Mrs Dursley queried her.

Harry had specifically asked her to entertain his aunt and cousin since he couldn’t engage them all the time while interacting with strangers – magical on top of it – certainly would be too much for them, but her Muggle background would certainly help them to ease up with her.

“They retired few months ago, Mrs Dursley. As we speak, they’re actually on a year long trip around the world. Want to enjoy life now that I no longer live with them, they said,” she said mildly. Well, although her answer was more for the sake of pleasant conversation, none of what she’d said was untrue.

Dudley returned to their table with Neville who, by the look of it, was helping him carrying plates full of various sweets and glass with magic. Then she remembered that Harry had moved Neville to the same table as his aunt at the last minute, although he hadn’t taken his seat from the beginning and instead she saw him talking with Harry until just moment ago.

“Neville, I see you’ve met Dudley,” she addressed him.

“Yes, Harry introduced us.”

Remembering her manner, she turned to Mrs Dursley and said, “Mrs Dursley, this is Neville Longbottom, he shared a room with Harry for six years at Hogwarts and now he’s apprenticing Herbology there.”

Other than Neville, the guests from Hogwarts were Hagrid and Professor Slughorn. Even though its’ Saturday, considering that it’s still school term it was understood that they couldn’t invite most of Hogwarts’ staff. Neville and Hagrid were invited for obvious reason but the third invitation was actually sent to McGonagall, both as the couple’s former head of House and as Headmistress, hence she basically represented the whole staff. However, it was so close to OWL and NEWT that she politely replied of not being able to attend. She had a lot to do from making sure her students preparedness to arranging all necessary stuff with Ministry Division for Magical Education.

Well, Hermione already warned Harry that any appointment with McGonagall would need to be arranged at least 3 months in advance, more if it’s for non-work purpose. So instead, the Potion Professor came in her stand. It’s very likely that it’s his idea, it wouldn’t be above him to pester her as well. After all this was the union between the famous Harry Potter and rising Quidditch star Ginny Weasley. This would be a story he could gloat on every occasion possible for the next decades.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Longbottom,” she gave him a cordial nod. “Herbology, I presume it has something to do with herb?”

“Yes, Mrs Dursley. It’s mostly about how to care medicinal plants and learn about their properties. So more than practising magic, I spend my time mostly digging soil and watering plants,” he explained good-naturedly.

Her eyebrow twitched. “Can you just _magic_ it or something?”

“Sometimes it’s better to do it by hand,” he smiled. “I’m sure you can understand it, Harry told me about your affinity for gardening and your prized garden.”

“I don’t think Harry ever has shown any interest in gardening.” Her tone remained stiff, but her barely contained pleased smirk belied her attempt for haughtiness.

“If I may, what kind of plants you grow, Mrs Dursley? My grandmother’s always so proud on her magnolia, it’s been there since as far as I can remember.”

“Magnolia surely can require more care sometimes, pruning and everything. I’m more into non woody stem flowering plants, less messy.”

Now Hermione understood the reason behind Harry’s decision. Neville certainly would have more materials to talk with his aunt than her. Being an Auror had also improved Neville’s confidence and composure, he wouldn’t have any problem dealing with Harry’s Muggle aunt.

She suspected that he even had masterfully orchestrated this by sending her first to lay foundation then followed by Neville after his aunt was more relaxed. It wouldn’t be very surprising for him to go to this great length for them. Just because both refused to travel by magical means, Harry had arranged a Squip to be their chauffeur to drive them back and forth from London to Devon and paid two rooms in a nearby Muggle inn for them to stay for two nights.

Seeing that her presence no longer needed (Dudley was too busy with his cakes), Hermione bade her leave. A quick look around the guests, she spotted Hannah who came as Neville’s date in the middle of conversation with Amy and her parents.

Amy’s parents were special exception amongst the invites. They’re invited not because of their association with the couple or their family but simply because they’re Amy’s parents. A short talk with Hannah had confirmed their suspicion that the only way Amy could attend a wedding at the Burrow was with her father, thus her invitation had been extended to include her parents.

Her eyes caught Louisa heading to the refreshment table while Mrs Weasley was patrolling nearby, likely checking the foods. Inspired by Harry’s machination, Hermione methodically moved towards the former.

“Enjoying the party?” she greeted her.

“It’s a lovely ceremony, Ginny has a good taste,” the French witch replied, pouring punch into her glass. “I like her dress.”

Hermione reached for a glass of pumpkin juice, not for an act but because she’s really thirsty. “Did you meet Ron?”

“Not yet, look like he’s busy,” she replied nonchalantly.

She realised it wasn’t her place to prod but hearing her answer, she couldn’t help not to be concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Why? Was something amiss?” she shot the question back at her, eyebrows arched in bemusement.

“No, just ...” She stole a glance to the dance floor, spotting Luna dancing with a dark-haired man. “you know, I kind of expect him to ask you for a dance or something,” she blurted the first lie she could think of.

“I don’t like dancing, he knows it,” said Louisa lightly. She gave her an intrigued look, likely figured out her train of thought, and chuckled, “I can function without him, you know. I’m here as Ginny’s guest anyway, not to meet him. By the way, Gabriele and I plan for a night stroll at Muggle London, want to join?”

“Tonight?” she clarified, which was answered with a slight tip of her head. “Sorry, I’m booked until tomorrow. Maid of honour, remember?”

And just as she calculated it, Mrs Weasley apprehended them not a moment too soon. Her plan might work after all.

“Hermione, dear, I haven’t seen you eat anything. Why don’t you lead your friend to the buffet, take something, then sit down and eat?”

She knew she’d get this order from the Weasley matriarch anytime this night, but this was her opening.

“I will, Mrs Weasley,” she offered her best genial smile. Just as her eyes caught Louisa discreetly trying to leave, she added, “Louisa, have you met Mrs Weasley?”

Few days ago, Ron had cornered her to basically trade Louisa with Draco. Unaware of her ‘development’ with Draco, Ron had made a promise that he would deal with him all through the party and in exchange, he asked her to look after Louisa and _maybe _find a chance to introduce her to his mother, but not as his girlfriend of course. It seemed like he was ready to reveal his relationship, just in gradual manner and not to suddenly spring his girlfriend to his mother’s face. With how Mrs Weasley was still very jittery on Angelina and George’s unmarried status, she could say that he made a wise move.

“Ah, I remember your name. Ron mentioned once that you’re seeking for a flat in London. Did you find one?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley. Ron’s been very helpful to me.”

“He’s a good boy,” Mrs Weasley nodded approvingly. “Do you settle in well? To live in a foreign country can be hard sometimes, especially alone. Hermione, why don’t you take her to our Sunday brunch? You’ll be welcomed here anytime, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley,” she said politely. Hermione could see that Mrs Weasley’s typical intrusive queries had made the blonde uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Mrs Weasley, but I’m here to get a drink for Fleur and she’s been waiting.”

“She is? Where’s Bill?! He should take a good care for his wife.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Bill’s taking Dominique outside,” she hurriedly assured her. Mrs Weasley didn’t move from where she stood though, blocking the way, so she threw a furtive glance towards Hermione for help.

Fortunately, before any of them need to make more direct approach, Mrs Weasley finally took notice. “Oh, of course. Go-go-go, don’t let Fleur wait too long.”

Louisa didn’t waste any time to go back to her table where Fleur and her parents (who were invited as guests but also on their extended trip to visit their new granddaughter) were seated, leaving Hermione with the mother of the bride. In her case, Mrs Weasley only let her go after she had sat her down with a plate full of food before her – she considered herself lucky that Mrs Weasley didn’t spoon-feed her.

Everything went uneventful from there. At some point, she saw Draco finally sitting alone on his table. Unlike Ginny who was able to invite all her teammates and coaches, being an Auror made Harry’s choice of invites from his colleague pool were limited. Aside from Draco, he only invited Robards, Martin, McDougal, and Osbert (Kingsley was Order member _before_ becoming his boss, so he didn’t fall into this category). For that, it was easier to just seat them together which only made it harder for her to find an opportunity to return his cloak since he only left his chair _once_ to grab a drink.

Her plan was simple; approached him when he’s alone (aka not in hearing distance of whoever nearby), handed him his cloak (already wrapped so nobody would know what’s inside), said thank you (and “oh by the way, you left it on the bench” – vaguely enough if anyone overheard but he would understand which bench she’d meant), and left (she already prepared 5 different excuses if anyone asked).

Alas, she bumped into Amy on her way and polite society dictated that she had to at least exchange few words with her. By the time Amy finished telling her that she got the job as junior assistant in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and introduced her to her parents, Draco was in the middle of conversation with Martin. In that situation, it would be more expected of her to talk to Martin than Draco, so she retreated to her table, waiting for another opening.

Now that she knew where he lived, there’s an option to just go for a short walk to his flat, but that would be her very last choice. She might be a Gryffindor, but she’s not willing to take risk that huge. The fact that Draco hadn’t mentioned anything that day might as well be a one-off or he’d only being considerate of her recovery state – she had been badly injured after all. Who could predict what he’d do in normal situation now that she’s well?

Slytherin was notorious to exploit people’s weakness for their own gain or mere amusement. And while she’s sure he wouldn’t use it to blackmail her or some other evil stuff, who’s to say that Draco would be willing to be deprived from a satisfaction of harassing her until she couldn’t lift her face at him. Lavender hadn’t called her prude for no reason. No, her best bet was to confront him in public. She had Harry and majority would take her side, Draco must be aware to not mess with her in public, the risk of backlash would be too high for him.

Several courteous conversations later, she finally managed to sit alone, nursing a glass of champagne. Her eyes wandered around, searching for a distinct mop of pale hair amongst the diminishing guests. She was seriously contemplating to just wait outside and cornered him when he’s leaving, she only need less than five minutes – maybe just shoved the package into his hand, not even let Draco to form any response.

A soft tap on her shoulder startled her and she whirled around. Standing before her was the best man, half bowing, and his left hand on his back like an old school gentleman.

“May I have this dance, Miss Granger?” he said in a resolute tone, gallantly extending his hand. “I believe we haven’t fulfilled our duty for a dance between maid of honour and best man.”

An amused chuckle escaped her. Well, considered her charmed.

“You may, sir.” She placed her hand on his and let him lead her to the dance floor.

It brought back memory from 5 years ago, a similar setting in the same place, of her dancing with Ron in a wedding at the Burrow. She still remembered how happy she had been when Ron finally asked her for a dance despite the eminent threat looming in the air. The same feeling was also filling her chest right now, except this time their steps was conspicuously lighter. No more Voldemort, they could fully enjoy the moment with no worry of the world ending tomorrow.

“I saw you introduced Louisa to Mum,” he noted casually. “How’s it going?”

And one more significant difference, he was in relationship with other girl this time.

“Well, your mum said she’ll be welcomed to join Sunday brunch anytime.”

“Great, it went well then. I know I can count on you, Hermione,” he beamed widely, twirling her as the music required.

“Do you really intend to avoid her throughout the night?” she chided him tepidly, half accusing.

“Give me some credit,” he huffed. “I just talked to her not five minutes ago. She doesn’t like dancing, so it’s not like I can ask her either. And now that Gabriele is in England, she will prefer to spend time with her more than with me. In fact, as we speaking, they’re leaving for a Saturday night stroll at London.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, why not? Frankly, it’s refreshing to be with someone who doesn’t keep ordering me what I should or shouldn’t do. No offence,” he hastened to add, watching her reaction warily.

For a moment she was tempted to scare him off a bit but in the end decided against it, this was a happy occasion. “None taken,” she assured him. “I’m glad it works for you.”

“Yes. She’s really amazing.” His face brightened considerably by his goofy grin and sparkling eyes.

“So, how’s your _date _with Malfoy?” There’s a second gap between her two last words as she had to make sure to mention his surname. It felt strange since in her thought he’d always been Draco now.

He pulled a face. “Do you have to ask?” he groaned, but she shot him a coy smirk. “It’s weird, you know, trying to find topic that has no potential of ending with hex. Worse, because his replies were either a grunt or a single syllable word.”

Hermione laughed. She could clearly picture how it went, a grumpy Draco was surely difficult to handle. Kudos for Ron for managing to do it unscathed.

“Glad to make you laugh, Hermione, but it’s definitely not funny. At least he didn’t stay long so I managed to keep my promise to Harry.”

“He left?” She didn’t even think to hide her surprise.

“Robards pulled him aside and they left not long after, most likely Auror stuff. Make me think that I’ve made a good decision by leaving the force. Blimey, you can’t even enjoy party fully,” he muttered sympathetically.

And there gone her chance. Should she perhaps consider stalking Draco at the Ministry?

Too busy with her thought on the blond wizard, she didn’t realise when mirth suddenly appeared in Ron’s eyes.

“Arrington is still here, by the way, and he’s been eyeing you the whole night.”

She stole a glance over his shoulder and grimaced when found out that he’s telling the truth. “Please save me if he shows any indication of asking me to dance. This shoes has been killing me, I don’t know why I let Ginny convince me to wear these.”

“You sure? He’s a good bloke. And smart.”

“Don’t!” she warned him sternly. “I have enough of your sister playing matchmaker, don’t provoke me to hex you.”

Not that she had anything bad against Martin, but she’s really in dire need to rid these shoes from her feet. Although it was barely could be considered as high heels, it was not as comfortable as her usual ballet flats. And after more than twelve hours in it had made her feet start to scream. Dancing was the last thing she wanted to do.

“As you wish. I learnt my lesson not to disobey your order, Hermione.”

***

It surely was not something that could be called as conventional wedding night – or even just wedding night – since the bride left with her maid of honour while the groom with the best man and they went to two different places. Harry was too drunk to go home alone after series of Firewhisky with Hagrid in the name of celebrating the start of his new life. Suffice to say, no consummation had occurred the night of the wedding.

The thing was, between her Quidditch and the whole preparation for the wedding, Ginny had barely had enough time to pack and move her stuff to Grimmauld Place. Thus she decided that her marriage life would only officially start after she moved out.

Then come the downside of living in Muggle neighbourhood. For appearance sake they couldn’t just shrink and pocket her belonging. At least few boxes and furniture had to be carried to the moving van downstairs for the benefit of their neighbours. Ginny had considered leaving most of her belonging but Hermione rejected the idea, she preferred to have more space in the flat now that Ginny moving out. Grimmauld Place was bigger, surely it could accommodate it better than the flat.

There’s also the problem with Fidelius Charm. Harry was adamant to reveal his home just for the sake of one day moving and since it would be weird to ask help from Kingsley or Mr Weasley, it would only be the four of them. It’s mainly the boys who did the manual labour though – again for appearance sake, two girls lifting what seemed to be a big box (under Feather-light Charm) would surely raised one or two eyebrows. Everything was way easier once they arrived at Grimmauld Place, it’s all wand-work there.

It’s unclear how or why it started, but in no time they suddenly found Ginny and Ron engage in a heated siblings bickering. Didn’t want to be in their warpath and being dragged into unnecessary row, Hermione exchanged a cautious nod with Harry and they both stealthy retreated to kitchen. There might not be much muscle work to be done, but calmness of a cup of tea would be a welcome respite.

“Harry, can I borrow your Marauders map?” she broke the silence. This far, the Weasley siblings’ loud argument could barely be heard. At his puzzled look, she explained, “Come to think of it, it must have used more than Homonculous Charm, after all it’s able to distinguish and identify person even through animagi, Polyjuice, _and _the Hallow’s magic. Maybe if I can crack it, I can finally have a breakthrough in my magical signature research.”

He offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Hermione, but I gave it to McGonagall two years ago.”

“What? Why?”

“It turned out the map is property of Hogwarts.”

“But didn’t your father and his gang create it?” she prodded further.

“No. It looked like one of them found it somewhere and modified the ‘key’ incantation the way we knew.” Readjusting his glasses, he elaborated, “So, I kind of had this idea to develop similar map but for Ministry Building for security purpose, you know, something like surveillance camera. I went to Hogwarts to see if McGonagall could help and when I showed it to her in her office, one former Headmaster portrait recognised it.

“The map was actually created by the four Founders themselves, mainly by Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff, to monitor their students. They said in the beginning Hogwarts has not been occupied by ghosts and living paintings as many as now to act as chaperones. Well, even back then they understood that putting together a bunch of teenagers in a huge castle far away from their parents without proper supervision is disaster bound to happen. And knowing that, it just felt wrong for me to keep it.”

“But did you figure it out? The mechanism of the map I mean.”

“No. All I’ve been told is that it’s made the same time as the castle construction so in a way it’s actually part of the castle itself. Just like the way Rowena Ravenclaw created Room of Requirement, we might never crack its secret.”

“That’s just too bad,” she whined, disappointment was thick in her voice. “You know, the more I'm researching on this, the more I realise that within wizarding society, there’s a lot of ancient knowledge that didn’t survive the passage of time. And nobody seems to be interested to dig it.”

Harry only chuckled at what would be the beginning of her discontent tirade. “I think you need to make up your mind, Hermione. Last time it was psychiatry, now it sounds like you want to bring anthropology into wizarding world. Pick one, you can’t cover everything,” he teased light-heartedly

“Not funny, Harry,” she scoffed. “You have to admit that Muggle is clearly superior in term of having broader academic disciplines. It’s no wonder Pure-bloods are so close-minded, there’s something wrong with wizarding education.”

“Well, just think that Hogwarts is a vocational school for magic and both of us are lucky enough to be exposed to broader ‘education’ in Muggle world if it can make you sleep better. Muggle life is now a mandatory lesson in Auror and Law Enforcement training, you know,” he tried to assuage her.

“I’m thinking that it would be great if we have someone from the Department to be placed in Scotland Yard so we can utilise their finger prints and their other technology. It certainly will be easier and less complicated than bringing it into DMLE.”

“Wow. It’s a brilliant idea, Harry! Have you brought it up to Robards or maybe Kingsley?”

He grinned shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We are actually looking for a suitable candidate now,” he admitted. “Interested to apply?”

“Scotland Yard? No, thank you.”

“Well, if you change your mind ...,” he trailed off. She shook her head vehemently. “Anyway, so you finally stop with the Gate or whatever it is?”

She rolled her eyes. “How many times I have to tell you, my interest on the Gate is related to my magical signature project. I know it will lead me to something if I can find it. Think about it, it supposes to be a pure magic that coming from the land.”

“What’s coming from what land?” Ginny interjected, emerging from the doorway.

“We’re discussing how come you suddenly have so many cousins coming from Ireland when they’re clearly not around during Bill’s wedding,” she answered without missing a beat.

She must have sounded convincing enough that Ginny didn’t see through her lie and press further, instead she leisurely took the stool next to Harry.

“Short answer: Voldemort. Longer answer: because Harry didn’t invite as many guest as Fleur.”

“How come you’ve never told me that you have many Irish relatives?”

“Our family have roots in Ireland. The first few generations of Weasleys were originally Irish,” Ron supplied, joining them, and started to rummage through the cabinet.

“From what I can remember from Dad’s story, the first generation of Weasley moved to England around the 15th century. Our ancestral land is there and used to be owned by the main branch of the family. He married a Muggle but his line ended because his son – who happened to have same name as him – had no issue. The property was later inherited by his wife’s nephew, Colly or something – a Muggle who later took Wesley surname – when no other Wesley could afford to inherit because of tax or something.”

Hermione gasped. “You mean Colley? Richard Colley? And that Wesley, was his name Garret Wesley?”

He shrugged, moving to the table with a cup on his hand. “I don’t know about this Colley guy but you’re right, it’s Garret Wesley. You know him? Was he famous?”

“My word. Ron, are you seriously telling me that you’re related to Arthur Wellesley!”

“Thank you for the information, Hermione, but I know that my father is Arthur Weasley.”

“Wellesley, not Weasley,” she asserted in a similar manner, reminiscing to their past _Levi-O-sa_ affair. “Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington!”

He threw her a blank look. “Who?”

“He was Muggle Prime Minister during William IV’s reign.”

“So what?” he retorted grumpily.

“Well, technically he’s not a Weasley by blood, as you said, he’s a Colley.”

“Not important to know then,” he declared brusquely. “Let’s talk about me instead. Considering I don’t charge my _service_ today, it’s only natural that I’ll be fed. So, where’s the food?” Lifting the empty pot, he added, “Nobody even think to serve me drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in canon the Marauder’s Map was created by James Potter and co, but I just can’t fathom the fact that if he/they could manage to create something like that as student, why on earth as grown up he didn’t make similar map for Godric’s Hollow? You know, I mean to monitor who’s around so they could have advance warning or something (it would be very useful during the war!). Or Sirius or Remus told Kingsley or someone in the Order so they could make one for the Department of Mystery so they could just monitor the map and went when it’s needed instead of having someone physically guarding the Prophecy?
> 
> Garret Wesley is a real person, but his relation to the Weasley is made up of course. The real Garret Wesley married Elizabeth Colley and had son who was also named Garret Wesley. Garret Wesley (the son) was married with no issue and on his death, he left his property to his cousin Richard Colley (son of Henry Colley, Elizabeth Colley’s brother) on condition that he took the surname Wesley. Richard Colley (or later known as Richard Colley Wesley), 1st Baron Morrington was an Irish peer and a grandfather of Arthur Wellesley. Arthur Wellesley (who later became 1st Duke of Wellington) was UK Prime Minister in 17 November 1834 – 9 December 1834 and in 22 January 1828 – 16 November 1830.
> 
> Remember in ch 24 when Ginny mentioned about Pig in Puff which Harry said to sound similar to Beef Wellington? Some said that the 1st Duke was quite indifferent to food but he loved it when his cook made a dish of beef cooked in pastry, which later has been named in his honour. On a side note, this theory is still disputed by many.


	27. Old Guard

Hermione did promise Amy lunch so she shouldn’t be surprised to see her appear at her office three days in a row. It’s not that she’s busy, there’s no change in her workload and no new development in her research. If she’s being honest, her daily life was in stagnancy. So yes, she definitely had time to leave her desk for lunch like other ordinary Ministry worker.

The fact that it’s Amy was a rather hard blow. Amy, not Harry or Ron. Because Harry was so busy working odd hours while Ron couldn’t barely leave the shop during the day since they’re basically short-handed as Angelina was more or less indisposed (little Fred still hadn’t slept through the night). In conclusion, between the three of them, she was the one who didn’t have much to do. That realisation in itself was gravely disconcerting, it’s an unfathomable disgrace!

Perhaps she really should consider a career change because right now instead of enjoying her lunch, she was on the brink of existential crisis. For the first time ever, Luna’s tattler about some unheard creature managed to grate on her nerve. This was a blaring sign for her to evaluate the course of her life.

“I hope we still can catch snow, Dodlylowy tends to hide when there’s no snow,” Luna lamented despondently.

Having no clue how to respond, Hermione only offered a sympathetic nod. Honestly, she didn’t know exactly where this conversation was going or what she was talking about.

Unlike the previous two days, they were joined by Luna today. They’d met her at the Atrium while she was on her way from Portkey Office.

“We will host ICW Summit this July and most delegations will travel by Portkey so understandably it will be hard to arrange any Portkey travel around that period,” Amy explained, then optimistically said, “But if I’m not mistaken, spring in New Zealand starts around September, right? And you can always return next year, Luna, I’m sure Rofl would be glad to accompany you again.”

Just from a short observation during Ginny’s wedding, it was clear that the man was completely besotted by the Ravenclaw alumni. Hermione had no doubt that he would follow her anywhere like a lost puppy. Nonetheless, she had to admit that they would make a great couple. The grandson of the infamous Newt Scamander might be the only one who could match Luna’s fascination on strange creature.

“Is that so?” Luna tilted her head questioningly, but then abruptly the side of his mouth curled into a serene smile. “It must be very busy in your office.”

“Yes. Although because I’m still new, I haven’t been given any important assignment yet, but there’s a lot of to do and I’m happy to help anyway I can,” she exclaimed eagerly. “And then there’s a scheduled bilateral meeting in Germany in November that I may have a shot to be part of the contingent, which means I have about half a year to get Daddy’s permission. That would be my first trip abroad alone, I’m so excited.”

That felt like a stab in the stomach for Hermione. In the last two days, she’d been listening to Amy enthusiastically talked about her new job and every little things she did. She knew it was an innocent chatter, by no means had the Hufflepuff tried to mock her idleness. And looking at the genuine happiness radiating on her face when she spoke, she had no heart to tell her to stop.

Who could blame her, living under the strict restriction from her father, any little autonomy would be better than that. It’s a wonder though, whether Mr Perks had also interrogated Kingsley or Willard like he did to George and Ron. But then again, he did _let _her attend Hogwarts instead of homeschooling her.

“Will you go to Neville’s wedding with Rofl, Luna?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation from any work related topic.

Luna smiled, saying, “I can’t, Hermione. He’s not invited.”

“As your date I mean.”

Both Luna and Amy stared at her strangely, which was rather unsettling because she couldn’t see what was so odd in her question. Sure, Luna had ever said that they were dating. In fact, her words were ‘_I like spending time with him’_ and he didn’t seem to care on whatever label she put on them. But bringing a friend as plus-one to a wedding was not uncommon practice even in wizarding world.

A gasp indicated that Amy finally came into the same understanding. “Of course, you’re Muggle-born. It’s normal if you don’t know.” At her perplexed face, she expounded, “It’s a traditional wedding, Hermione, you’re not allowed to bring anyone if you’re unmarried.”

That’s certainly new information for her. Come to think of it, she recalled there no space in the RSVP card where she could mark whether she would bring guest or not. She planned to go alone so she didn’t really think much about it that time, but it made sense if that’s the case.

Ginny’s story resurfaced in her mind, something didn’t click. “Wait, Ginny once told me that in traditional wedding custom, the Bonding will be held at the bride’s and the Blessing from the groom’s side is after sunset. But my invitation states the Blessing is in the morning.”

Amy and Luna exchanged significant looks, as if asking the other who’d explain it to her. Thankfully, it would be Amy because the typical Luna’s way in explaining might only make her more confused.

“It’s because the Longbottom is part of what we used to call as the Old Guards, they’re one of few left. They have special connection with their land, they’re not only owned it but more like _serve_ it,” she began. “Neville was born in the main branch so he’s the heir and for that kind of land, inheriting the land is not as simple as signing paperwork. There’s some short of ritual.

“The problem is, the normal transition was disturbed because Neville’s father no longer able to do his duty or has the ability to pass it to him. And now that he will marry, meaning to start his line, he needs to renew the connection, to re-establish the pledge between his line and the land. It’s almost unheard of. Daddy told me the last time this kind of ritual has been performed was ... several hundred years ago.

“In traditional common marriage, it’s all about joining two families. That’s why there are two Blessings, two celebrations, on the bride’s and the groom’s. But in Neville’s case, you can say that Hannah will simply be _given_ to the Longbottom. Nothing on the bride’s side, in fact they have no say or even will be involved in any part of it. If you notice, our invitations are Blessing invitation, not _wedding_ invitation. We will not witness their actual bonding ceremony, we only come to give our blessing. Mummy told me we won’t even see the bride,” she concluded, but then quickly added, “except Luna.” She sent a conspicuous glance at the blonde, asking for confirmation.

Luna nodded. “My mother’s mother was a Longbottom. I’m the closest relative to Neville from the straight female line so I will serve as the Principal Maid. I’ll be with Hannah all the time through the whole ceremony,” she elucidated in her usual airy tone.

“The Bonding will be exactly at solstice, right?” Again, Luna affirmed. She turned to Hermione, “So, we bless the married couple and breakfast. We’re so lucky to be invited, Hermione. Daddy said that it will be a once in a lifetime experience, it’s an honour,” she stated cheerfully.

Hearing her explanation, Hermione actually didn’t care much about the wedding. She was more interested in the first part of Amy’s narrative about the Old Guards. A connection between a wizarding family and their land, somehow it did sound similar to House-Elf’s Bond. And they were called ‘Old _Guard_’, which from the name itself, it might mean that they’re _guarding_ something. Was it simply about estate ownership or there’s something more in it?

“Why I never read anything about this?” she blurted out bluntly. “I’ve read almost _every_ written manuscript on wizarding family and their ancestrym _everything_ about Sacred Twenty Eight. Both of you know and you have no reservation to share it with me so it’s not a guarded family secret, right?”

“Mummy told me,” Luna answered plainly, looking puzzled by her question.

Amy wore similar expression. “Most of us heard it from our parents, some of it is just common knowledge.”

Of course, oral tradition certainly still dominated wizarding world. No wonder many valuable ancient knowledge were lost. When knowledge and cultural wisdom was received, preserved and transmitted orally from one generation to another, it would only take one missing piece and all would be gone in time.

It’s not that magical community was unfamiliar with writing system and print. Family secret was one thing, but when most thought it as common knowledge, nobody would bother to document it in print. They surely couldn’t accuse fellow Muggle-born like her to be ignorant towards wizarding custom when they didn’t have their parents to teach them that. That was certainly a huge issue she couldn’t solve by herself, if ever.

Nevertheless, somehow she had a good feeling that she would find some new finding on Neville’s wedding. Especially since the venue was also happened to be listed on her location candidate of the Gate.

***

The wedding couldn’t be more different than Ginny’s. Granted Hermione had only ever attended two wizarding weddings, but she wasn’t uninformed on how traditional wizarding matrimony rite would be. But this wedding really took ‘traditional’ into entirely different level.

There were lot of unwritten rules which she nearly flouted and bunch of _faux pas_ she potentially made if it’s not for Mrs Weasley. Even Ginny who’s a Pure-blood didn’t know much about this old custom. Therefore, her mother had made sure to sit them down – Harry and Ron included – once it’s confirmed that they were invited. After all, there were always several injunctions where an ancient rite was concerned, one which should be thoroughly followed and not breached.

For one, they ought to wear a traditional robes made of undyed organic fabric, be it linen or cotton. No jewellery other than ring, no perfume, no make-up; they should come as they were. Unmarried guests must arrive alone at the designated place where an Attendant would be waiting to escort them to the site where the ceremony was to be held.

As per her invitation, her meeting point was at a small hut on the north side of Glynn Nathan. Amy, Susan, and Sally-Anne were amongst ten other witches there, all in similar plain robes. They exchanged a short greeting until their Attendant informed them that they’d commence their journey, no more talking was allowed henceforward until after the Blessing was concluded.

Their Attendant led them to head west through a cluster of ivy-clad trees interspersed with bushes that were getting taller and taller until the sky barely visible above canopy of leaves. At some point, they came across a gate-like opening between two old hawthorn trees, then their trek started to make a hike to south.

Despite the abundant sounds of the forest, for some reason it also gave the impression of peace and quietness, heightening her senses. Between the noises of twigs cracked by the sole of their boots, she could easily distinguish the variety of chirping birds, the husky hum created by the breeze of the wind and the rustling trees, or a soft but steady trickle of water which told her that there were river banks not so far away.

Her nose was able to catch the smell emanated by the musky soil, delicate fragrance of fresh blooms kissed by morning dew, and sometimes a faint scent of wood when one of them accidentally severed spruce branch blocking their path. And as they were getting deeper and deeper into the woods, she could _feel_ in her skin that this woodland was old in age. These sensation enveloped her, involuntary caused her to shiver in a startling way, like _magic_, similar to what she had felt at Hogwarts.

Once in awhile – without disturbing the other’s pace – one would take a handful of soil into their hands, held it loosely on right palm and covered it with their left. It would be the symbol of their blessing, not just the quantity but also how long they carried it in their clasped hands as they basically wouldn’t be able to use their hands much the rest of their walk.

Somehow, the feeling of cool soil held in her hands made her feel connected to her surroundings, to Earth. It’s exhilarating and rejuvenating, how her body seemed to be filled by an enormous energy. On the other hand, it’s also grounding and humbling at the same time for the realisation that she was only part of the vast universe and only had little to give back. Amy was right, this was certainly an extraordinary experience.

From what Mrs Weasley said on their ‘briefing’, she knew that the other groups – unmarried wizards and married guests – had their own meeting points and routes. Whilst it was soil for witches, wizards would be expected to take or pick any seeds (“_Not the whole fruit, Ron, only the seeds. But don’t eat it after you take its seeds! Let it be your offering to the creatures inhabit the forest”_) along their way as their part of the Blessing, picked by hand with no magic involved.

Perhaps it was one hour later, could be more but could be less – she didn’t really care on the exact honestly, what she noticed was that the sun was definitely higher – they finally arrived at a clearing. At the first glance it certainly looked like a hidden sacred place in the midst of ancient woodland, protected by a circle of living wall of aspen trees and shrubs with small fissure between them, reminding her of a henge but of trees instead of stone structure.

The only stone there was what looked to be an altar at the centre. Circling around it near the perimeter of the trees were several logs of wood arranged orderly, some already occupied by a dozen wizards who arrived before them.

As she took a seat, she flicked a glance to them and easily spotted Ron sitting next to Dean (she couldn’t help but wonder who had helped him? Maybe Seamus since he’s also there). For the first time, she saw Ron having a pensive – nearly vacant – face, he didn’t even make any reaction when the last group (which included Ginny and Harry) arrived. In fact, unlike the usual wedding congregation where everyone grinning and chatting happily, majority wore solemn expression. If she wanted to utter a joke about this situation, they eerily resembled a secret cult gathering. It’s obvious that the lingering heavy air enclosing this site affected everyone.

The groom and his bride arrived not long after. Neville was also dressed in plain linen robes, walking down straight to the altar. His steps were bold and collected, she could even call it graceful, far from the image of a timid chubby boy searching for his toad she’d met years ago.

Beside him was his bride, covered from head to toe by a lacy linen veil, enough for her to see through it but also still managed to obscure her appearance. It was secured with a wreath of vine branch which also served as crown. From where she sat, it was hard to know whether it’s Hannah or someone else.

Trailing behind the bride was Luna whose attention was fully on her. When the couple kneeling on the altar, she stood still behind her. Throughout this whole ritual, the role of Principal Maid was not only to attend the bride, but essentially to be her shadow and her shield. In short, as Luna had told her during their lunch date, she’d be with Hannah all the time.

Too focus watching the couple, she almost didn’t notice that her Attendant was standing before her, proffering a clay bowl. Startled, it took her a second longer to remember what the gesture meant, that this was part when the Blessing was collected. Thus she lifted her clasped hands and opened it above the bowl, letting the grain of soil fall into it. It was the same for everyone, including in the other two groups.

There were only around 50 guests so it wouldn’t take long to collect it. After they’re done, the three attendants poured its content into the stone basin on the altar, a puddle of combination of morning dew and last night’s rain were inside. They then led their groups to leave the site, now as one large group. The last person to step out of the circle was the Principal Maid, finally was released from her duty. Only the groom and his bride would remain in the clearing to perform the rest of the rite.

And that was it. No words were spoken, it’s all on intent.

It was said that if the land accept their pledge of service, the concentrated magic showered by the land on the basin would cause the seeds to sprout faster than it naturally did. The couple would then plant it across the land as their first act of fealty to serve the land, for the Old Guards was also known as the Stewards of the Land.

The wedding breakfast – or to be more precise, the _Feast_, since the Bonding had been carried out the night before at solstice – was held in the open field 25 minutes walk away from the site. And even if it’s called ‘feast’, it looked more like a typical English garden party. Here, everyone was free to mingle with other guests to enjoy sweet and other savoury finger foods, or just taking pleasure of scenery of Cornish sea – which was what Hermione did.

Now that she was out of the glen, it felt like she was emerging from under water. Although she could still sense a faint sensation of magic tingling on her skin, the vibes was evidently lighter here. She couldn’t recall whether she’d ever felt the same impression each time she left Hogwarts ground. Or perhaps it was different because the ley line at the glen was relatively purer than at Hogwarts. After all it was the reason why they’re not allowed to use magic there; so they would not ‘taint’ it with their spell. This was certainly something worth to be revisited.

“It’s really such an experience, right?” An airy voice broke her reverie.

It was like Luna just appeared beside her, either because she was too deep in her thought (as usual) or Luna really had excelled in honing her ability to move soundlessly. And if it not because she was the only one within one metre radius of the Ravenclaw witch, she wouldn’t be so sure that she was talking to her since not only she was facing forward, but her eyes were also closed as if she was enjoying her private time.

Unsure how to react, she murmured, “Er, yes it is.”

“It’s good that you’re willing to open up, Hermione.” She finally opened her eyes, tilting her head to look at her. “Your aura is different, more in tune. And you let nature touch you,” she note.

Hermione could only stare at her, slightly confused by her assertion. She was quiet for too long and she lost her chance to respond.

“Such kind of magic must only be managed with care, it’s a power beyond our reach. Nobody should misuse it, it’s disrespectful to the land. You also realise it, right?” she continued her musing.

Still struggled to comprehend her chatter, she remained quiet and just let her go on.

And suddenly, the blonde witch beamed. “But they will be fine, they’re blessed. It was beautiful last night, you know. The land sang when Hannah and Neville became one.”

This time, her brain was fast enough to catch up. She whipped her head around, visibly flustered. “You were there?!” she spluttered.

Of course she was aware of Bedding ceremony, even Muggle had various version of that rite, she’d read it. And Ginny had also mentioned that traditional wizarding matrimony rite had it so it’s not too far-fetched to think that this more ancient didn’t include it. In fact, maybe it’s one of the most important part of the whole ceremony. And there’s the part about Principal Maid duty where she would always stay with the bride. Between these two stipulations, there’s only one conclusion she pulled.

When Luna answered her with a casual nod, all colours were drained from her feature. She was completely horrified at the image emerging in her thought, her eyes went wider at her next statement.

“It’s my duty, Hermione,“ she stated with so much conviction. “I was guarding the door the whole night, I didn’t even sleep.”

She breathed a soft “Oh” while closing her mouth because honestly, even if it was in the name of duty or whatever it was, she’d never pictured Neville and Hannah as an exhibitionist. It’s weird enough to have sex knowing that someone was standing guard on the other side of the door.

Recovering from her shock, she conversationally asked, “So, does it mean that the Bonding was not performed at that clearing?”

She pointed her forefinger to a ruin by the edge of the cliff, of a structure resembled a fortification, built half on the mainland and some other part on a jagged headland projecting into the sea.

“Travena Hall. It used to be Longbottom’s ancestral house. You’ll see its real form if you pass the perimeter,” she expounded. “It’s charmed to look like a ruin for Muggle, but strangely it seems to incite their interest instead. I wonder why.”

Hermione wasn’t sure whether she should tell her that Muggle had considered it as historical site or she only said it as a rhetorical question. In the end, she leant to the latter.

Luna didn’t seem to expect an answer either as she then chirped brightly, “Well, I’ll see if I can find any Wlipsy around here. They usually come out if there’s wedding by the sea.” And without waiting on the brunette’s response, she skipped down the hill.

“Okay, I’m curious on what Luna told you that can leave you dumbfounded like this.”

She shook her head, coming out from her stupor. Accepting a glass of fresh juice from Harry’s hand, she mumbled, “Just Luna being Luna.”

Watching her rubbing her rubbing her forehead to ease her headache, he suppressed his chuckle until it sounded more like a sniff of amusement. Luna’s eccentricity was known well by them, that sentence was enough, no more explanation was necessary.

It’s amazing how she could always come up with new unheard magical creature every time they met. Then again, few months she had stirred the magizoology world with her discovery of Nargle, proving its existence. In the past, Hermione usually would just ignore or dismiss her bizarre random comments as gibberish but now she couldn’t help but to pay more attention and dissect her words to find any truth behind it. But she’s still Luna and it’s difficult to keep up with her most of the time.

Sipping his drink, his expression turned sober. “Do you think it’s here?” he queried as if they were already in the middle of a conversation although they were not. She knew what he meant anyway.

“So you can feel it too?”

“Everyone can, Hermione. Although most didn’t seem to be surprised by it, maybe just us who come from non-magical family,” he asserted his observation. “Now I get what you meant about sensing ley line. I really got goosebumbs over there, it’s almost oppressing.”

“I don’t know, Harry. I have no clue how to prove that it is or isn’t,” she confessed honestly, throwing her gaze to the said woodland. “But if you ask me, I doubt it. It’s too obvious. I mean, even Muggles consider this place to be magical, either it’s for spiritual reason or maybe they actually can sense the energy emitted by the ley line. For something that was sought after by few people from a very specific background, this is too easy. Then again, Hogwarts is also well known but they target it even though, at least for me, the ley line seems to be stronger here.”

“You mean the real deal will be even stronger?” he said apprehensively.

She shot him a significant look. “Well, there must be a very good reason why it’s concealed and why a power hungry wizard wants to find it, right? It ought to be worth more than average”

He grimaced at her statement.

It wasn’t her intention to cause him distress, so she quickly changed subject. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to return to your wife, Harry?” she quipped lightly. “Please spare me, I don’t want to be known as home-wrecker in the next edition of Witch Weekly.”

He scoffed. “What can I say, I’m trying to a good husband here,” he countered indignantly. “I let my wife having her freedom gossiping with her female friend instead of being chained in my arm.”

Indeed, Ginny seemed to have a good time chatting with Amy and Susan. She returned her attention to Harry when she heard him greet someone.

“Potter,” the man greeted back. “And I suppose this is Miss Granger.”

She nodded cautiously. There’s a niggling feeling that she had seen him somewhere, but definitely not in her department or DMLE.

“Hermione, this is Saul Croaker.”

Then she remembered, this man was the Unspeakable supervising her when she investigated Olivander’s desk in Department of Mystery last September.

“You certainly made quite impression on one of my former colleague, Miss Granger. I believe you’ve met old Ollivander, right?” he said casually.

“Yes, I have,” she replied cordially.

“Ah, you mentioned that he was your mentor. Still in contact with him then,” Harry supplied.

She couldn’t tell what this byplay was about, but most likely it had something to do with the break-in last year. Didn’t want to be dragged into other department’s clash, she planned to retreat silently. Unexpectedly, the conversation got back to her again.

“Yes, Potter, and it’s private matter. In fact, I think you’ll be interested to know how he mentioned Miss Granger’s interest in a particular subject,” he said bluntly.

She sent Harry a furtive glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Croaker, but he ignored it. “I can tell that he think very highly of you, Miss Granger. But off course I’ve also heard about your work on magical signature and witnessing it myself, I confess I’m impressed. So Miss Granger, if you need to discuss about that particular subject with someone, you’re welcome to find me at level 9.”

“Why, sir? What gives?” she pried sceptically.

“This won’t be the first time you work for other department right, Miss Granger? ” he replied matter-of-factly, smirking. Then in the same pragmatic tone, he continued, “Besides, it will never hurt to get additional resources. And as your friend kindly has informed us, Ollivander _is_ my mentor and I trust his judgement. He had this idea that it can lure you to join us.”

There’s no further exchange after that. Caught off guard by his direct declaration, they barely notice when Croaker offered them a slight bow as he bid his leave.

“What was that?!” Harry wondered aloud.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I feel like I’m being headhunted.”

He quirked his eyebrows and teased, “Oh. And should I tell Osbert or Robards to approach you to even the game then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Glynn Nathan (means deep wooded valley of Nathan in Cornish) or more known as Saint Nectan's Glen is an area of woodland in Trethevy near Tintagel, north Cornwall stretching for around one mile along both banks of the Trevillet River. The glen's most prominent feature is St Nectan's Kieve, a spectacular sixty foot waterfall through a hole in the rocks. The site attracts tourists who believe it to be "one of the UK's most spiritual sites. The site is privately owned but there is free public access to the glen. A charge is made to visit the waterfall. The area has been appointed a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) due to rare specimens of plants.
> 
> The ruin that Luna pointed as Longbottom’s ancestral house is Tintagel Castle (which of source, has no connection to Harry Potter universe in reality).  
\- Tintagel Castle is a medieval fortification located on the peninsula of Tintagel Island adjacent to the village of Tintagel (Travena), North Cornwall. It’s part of the landholdings of the Duchy of Cornwall and the site is managed by English Heritage.  
The castle has a long association with legends related to King Arthur when Geoffrey of Monmouth described Tintagel as the place of Arthur's conception in his fictionalized account of British history, Historia Regum Britanniae.  
But historywise, the castle was built on the site by Richard, 1st Earl of Cornwall in the 13th century, during the High Middle Ages. It later fell into disrepair and ruin. It was built to establish a connection with the Arthurian legends with the area and because it was seen as the traditional place for Cornish kings.  
(source: Wikipedia and various sites)


	28. Myth

“Tell me again why am I here?” she inquired as he pushed the door open.

“Because you are a good friend so _you_ will help _me_ to cheer _our_ heartbroken friend up,” Harry recited the same answer, didn’t miss to put his best pleading eyes in place.

Hermione let out a resigned sigh. Why it’s so hard to tell him no when he looked like this. Reluctantly she followed him into the house, determined to just be there and wouldn’t do anything because even without it, she was already in a very uncomfortable position.

“Good, he’s not home yet. We’ll have some time to formulate a plan for this mission.”

She cringed at his sentence. “Don’t you think it will be better if it’s between men, Harry?” she tried again. “You know, something about male masculinity, to never show your vulnerable state to us women?”

He shot her an incredulous stare. “This is you and Ron we’re talking about,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, you also know Louisa so you’ll have the perspective from both angles.”

“If you want me to play mediator, forget it,” she shut him down. “It was awkward enough when she told me that they broke up.”

“Did she tell you why?”

She snorted wryly. “She said she’s okay if I want to end our friendship, as in taking Ron’s side since I’m friend with him first. Right after she sprang their breakup to my face,” she said. “I was really anticipating the play, Harry, so no, I spent the whole night pretending that the first conversation never happened.”

Two steaming cups were already served when they arrived at the kitchen, one was freshly brew coffee while the other was hot cocoa.

“How can he know if I want coffee or tea,” he murmured to himself, but reached for his cup nonetheless.

None of them said anything for a couple of minutes, choosing to savour their drinks in companionable silence.

“So, what’s the problem?” she asked without preamble.

In the past three months after Ginny’s wedding, all signs had indicated that they would finally disclose their secret romance. Louisa had joined Weasley Sunday brunch twice as Hermione’s friend and Ron had not shied away from her, they had even exchanged a peck or two on the cheek – which was not so strange as Bill always got one as well. They had also acted more at ease when they engaged in public. For outsiders who didn’t know that they’d actually been a couple for awhile, it would almost seem like he’d been wooing her. But to everyone’s surprise, seemingly out of nowhere they’d ended their relationship instead.

Other than the night when she went to watch the play with Louisa, she hadn’t met any of them again. While she didn’t know what Louisa did nowadays, Harry had told her that although Ron still went to the joke shop like he normally did, he had been staying with him for the past 5 days, claiming that he needed space. Considering that his parents didn’t know about his relationship – and the end of it – staying at the Burrow would only lead to more questioning especially from his mother. He’s lucky that it’s summer so George had his hands full with little Fred and the shop.

“He didn’t say anything too, but he’s been sulking for the whole week and honestly, it starts to annoy me,” he ranted. “If Ginny’s home, she’ll definitely kick him out in second.”

“So you want me to persuade him to go home?” she asked tentatively.

“I want you to help me to figure out what has actually happened or at least how I can help him,” he implored. “It doesn’t make sense, Hermione. Just two weeks ago Ron was contemplating to move out of the Burrow, it’s obvious that he wanted to get serious. But then less than a week later they broke up, it just doesn’t add up.”

Louisa had said that she’s the one who ended their relationship and hearing his account, now she had a strong suspicion of her reason. She didn’t voice it though, and instead said, “Sorry, Harry, but I’ll stick to my earlier decision. Unless one of them asks me for help or merely asking for second opinion, I will not poke my nose into someone’s relationship. I never do it to you and Ginny, I won’t start it with Louisa and Ron. It’s a dangerous water to tread, Harry.”

He groaned in defeat. “What should I do then? Just watch?”

“This is Ron we’re talking about,” she intoned, echoing his earlier statement. “He’ll come around when he’s ready.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, seemed to know where she’s coming from. One wrong word and it could make Ron feel attacked and get defensive instead, a trait shared by the three of them.

“At least I hope your presence will change our routine or his mood, and bring some normalcy maybe,” he said sedately. “It’s been awhile since it was just the three of us.”

She gave him a genuine smile which signalled her assent.

He got up from the chair to check what Kreacher had prepared for dinner. The Elf might always serve beverage directly on the table upon their arrival, but he always stored it inside the small cupboard next to the stove. He had put some magic that would preserve the foods inside to remain in its best served condition, like a fridge albeit the hot one would remain hot and the cold one would remain cold. The Static Charm only worked for one condition, so she really wanted to ask what he’d cast to it – if only he’s willing to show himself.

“I have pasta and stew, which one you want?” he offered.

She shook her head. “Let’s wait for Ron, I don’t think he’ll be happy to find us eating without him. I’m not really hungry anyway.”

He brought a plate of spring rolls though, munching one even before his buttocks touched the stool.

“By the way, you still haven’t told me anything about your meeting with Croaker, Hermione. Do you really take his offer?”

“We didn’t talk much actually and I only went down there once.” She gave in to the temptation and grabbed one roll, it did look appetising. “We talked about my magical signature project for a bit, but his main objective was actually to give me a box of parchments and pieces of paper. He said Ollivander wanted me to have it.”

“Let me guess, it has something to do with his past research on the Gate.”

She affirmed. “Some of it was his, but I found some that was signed by Broderick Bode.”

“Broderick Bode? Why that name sounds familiar?” he pondered. Then his eyes widened as realisation dawn on him. “He’s the Unspeakable that was Imperius’ed to steal the Prophecy and then murdered while he’s in St Mungo’s, right?”

She smiled, proud of his quick thinking. Then again, she already knew that he was a competent Auror, she could even say an accomplished one. He’d proven over and over again that he was not riding on the moniker he’d been anointed by wizarding public when he’s still a baby.

“From what I can gather, Rookwood worked with Ollivander briefly before he was thrown to Azkaban the first time. He retired not long after, doing some short of world tour so he left all his work at the Ministry,” she elaborated. “Apparently, Bode found it and continued his research. Croaker only knew after his death and he sent it to Ollivander, but only Bode’s work because Ollivander wanted to know how far he made progress on it. The rest was still in the Ministry.”

The fact that now it was in Rookwood’s possession was left unsaid. She didn’t see the need to tell him that the stolen items were not trivial records and documents either, one of it was a ley line map of Scotland Ollivander had managed to draw over his decades long research. It supposed to be a shocking revelation when Croaker had told her that, except the effect was dampened by how flippant he had spoken and how easy he’d been to share that information to her.

Like most people, she always got the allusion that Unspeakables were very secretive on what they’re doing, even amongst their own colleagues. So understandably initially she had been taken aback by his honesty which then later morphed into suspicion. In a typical Gryffindor fashion, she had openly confronted him, only to be rendered speechless when he simply stated that someone needed to continue it and his mentor for some reason had decided that it would be her.

For a second Hermione had had an image of Dumbledore and Ollivander having tea while playing chess with real human as their pawns, exchanging notes on the art of manipulation. She had accepted the box, however she never returned to his office again after that day.

“What’s in it?”

“The most precious item is Rendtorff’s original manuscript,” her grim expression was quickly replaced by an enthusiastic one. “Okay just few pages of his journal, but it’s in _his handwriting_, Harry!”

“I’ll never understand why it looks as if you’ve just found a Fountain of Youth or Elixir of Life.” He raised his hand, effectively cutting off her protest. “Let’s ignore your strange old book kinks and just tell me what make it important.”

She pouted, wasn’t happy that her friend couldn’t appreciate such rare treasure.

Letting an exasperated huff to show her disgruntlement, she started, “For one, he had bad handwriting and to make it worse, he wrote it in Old Saxon. Really, I’d have a better chance to decipher Woodwill’s potion instruction which was written fully in ancient Runes than that. One thing for sure, Hordwill left out a lot of information in his translation because I found something that can be translated as ‘curtain of lights’ and ‘four guards’ – or in other case it can be interpreted as ‘supports’ – and I swear to God there’s no such term in Hodwill’s book.”

In fact she had checked, twice, word by word, even though by that time she already lost count on how many times she had read that book to the point – not as many as Hogwarts: A History though – that she remembered by heart where she could find what.

“I see. If we interpret ‘curtain of lights’ as northern light, adding ‘four guards’ will certainly make you think of Hogwarts,” he deduced. “But that’s because we’re British. Four gods, four corners, four elements or other kinds of four are very common in many myths. And even if the ‘curtain of lights’ does refer to aurora, do you even find something that point out whether it’s the northern or southern one?”

If only he paid any interest on this matter sooner, she’d have a companion to brainstorm through ideas and clues or at the very least to moan over her struggle.

“Yet for whatever reason, their focus was Britain,” she countered, her tone didn’t betray her sentiment. “Interestingly, while Ollivander chose to trace ley line, Bode’s research was more about wizarding family. His files are mostly about Pure-bloods’ genealogy, not the Sacred 28 but also the old guards. Maybe it’s the ‘four guards’ interpretation, more than mapping the ley line, if it’s actually guarded then it would be easier to track its guard, right? Not to mention how many words that could mean ‘pure’ or ‘purity’ in Rendtorff’s journal, incomplete translation or wrong interpretation will make you think that he’s spouting blood supremacy.”

“Didn’t you do it during your House-Elf research? Find something new?”

“But not that thorough. Oh Harry, you’ll be surprise to see how almost every Pure-blood families are related to nobility or even royalty in their ancestries. It explains how most of them could own their estates for generations and survived Witch Hunt.”

He snorted in amusement. “Judging by their snobbery, I’m not surprise. So it’s actually in their blood then.”

“To be fair, not all of them were bad persons,” she defended. “Your Peverell ancestor for example. There’s an account that connected the Peverell brother to William Peverel. It’s said that one of William Peverel the Younger’s mistress was a witch who later bore him a son who was later fathered Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus.

And then there’s the Longbottom. Considering that Travena Hall is the ‘ruin’ of Tintagel Castle, you would have thought that they’re descendant of the 1st Earl of Cornwall. But their ancestor was actually Thomas Peveral, a wizard who once was a Sheriff of Cornwall, the grandson of Antioch Perevell. I confirmed it with Neville.”

His eyes flickered, showing his interest. Hermione went on.

“As sheriff, he started to smuggle witches and wizards awaiting the trial from the castle by faking their death using Draught of Living Death. With the help of the constable’s wife who’s actually a witch, he then changed his identity to become the first Longbottom and was granted part of the castle so he could continue protecting their fellows. And do you know who this constable’s wife was?” She paused, but didn’t let him to answer. In a foreboding tone, she revealed, “Her name was Elizabeth of Lancaster, the 2nd daughter of Duke of Lancaster, John of Gaunt.”

“Don’t say ...” he trailed off, clearly had come to her intended conclusion.

However, before she could fill the dots to confirm his notion, they heard crack of the door open. The air shifted considerably and both had their eyes fixed to the kitchen entrance, waiting.

Following series of thuds of footsteps from the hallway, Ron emerged on the doorway not long after.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?” he blurted once he noticed her presence.

“_Visiting_ a friend,” she replied blandly. “And what are _you_ doing here?”

He ignored her question and instead strode straight to the kitchen cabinet.

True to his word about initiating normalcy, Harry resumed their previous conversation as if they had not been interrupted. “Are you implying that Voldemort legally had his chance to the British throne?”

Picking up on his cue, she quipped, “I believe there’s a provision about losing the right if you’re Catholic.”

“Hermione, you know what I mean,” he reproved her, though with no bite in it.

“Yes, you get it right. It’s where the Gaunt wizarding line had started but not from John, Duke of Lancaster. The one who started their magical branch was his first born son, also named John. The Duke was a Muggle but his wife was a witch, namely Blanche of Lancaster. If you check Muggle history, you’ll find her as the younger daughter of Henry of Grosmont and Isabel de Beaumont, but Bode had found evidence that she’s actually the daughter of Isabel’s lady in waiting.

“If you’re aware, Isabel’s mother was a Scottish noblewoman. It was stated that one day she saved an abandoned young girl, close to her youngest daughter’age and decided to make her to be her playmate, and later lady in waiting. That girl was the last Slytherin. She died when she gave birth to Blanche and being very close since they’re young, Isabel raised her as her own daughter. There’s no record of the father, who or whether he’s a wizard or Muggle.

“And that’s not all. Unlike Elizabeth, John’s magical ability manifested very early so his mother faked his death to protect him. It was said that he grew up to be a rather ambitious man, until his death he never gave up on his quest to reclaim his ‘bloodright’, a land in an undisclosed place somewhere in the Highlands.”

That’s one more reason to put Hogwarts back on the table again.

“Wow, that one way to show how history repeats itself. A well known blood purist family upended by a daughter,” he remarked. “And to think that Voldemort’s ancestor was a brother of English king, I don’t know should I find it unsettling or amusing.”

"_Tout le monde descend d'un roi et d'un pendu_."

They snapped their heads almost at the same time, surprised in part for the fact that Ron was listening – even decided to join – and predominantly for what he said. Or at least for Hermione, because not five seconds later Harry shot her a questioning stare, brows knitted.

Ron might have spoken in a strange accent, but she got the gist. "An old saying basically means that everyone is descended from a king and a hung man," she translated it for him.

There’s only one possible source from where – _whom_ – he had learnt the adage. Inadvertently they had created an opening for this delicate subject. It looked like Harry’s scheme about changing their dynamic with her presence was not too far off.

“She likes history, especially genealogy.” Although his voice was low, it was clear enough in this hush. His gaze was cast down, watching his finger fiddling with his cup. “I managed to impress her when I told her about my family’s ancestry and our connection to that Muggle Prime Minister. She really listened when I bragged about our claim that the Wesleys are descendants of Oisin and Niamh, even though she later kind of cross-examined me to check whether I just made everything up. As if I would lie to her.”

Hermione stole a glance at Harry, finding that he did the same. They exchanged few unspoken words of uncertainty before returning their attention to their red-haired friend again.

“I really want it to work, you know. I’ve seen how she treated Fleur in the beginning. And with her modern thinking and Mum’s old-fashioned one, I needed to prepare them separately before they could meet officially. I wanted Mum to like her, to not giving her hard time.”

There was twelve seconds pause where nobody made any noise for their own reasons.

He chuckled miserably. “She said I should not waste my time on her because she’s not what I want. Merlin, I can’t even understand what she meant by that.” It seemed to be the end of his story.

For quite some time, Harry had been giving her a beseeching look. Of course he wanted her to assume the role of the bad guy and he’d be to the one who would come to the rescue, to be the buffer. Not that she’s happy to do it but admittedly, if things went south, he’d be better referee for her and Ron than she for him and Ron.

Drawing a long deep breath, with much deliberation she asked in low-even tone, “Did you ask her to marry you?”

“So it’s my fault? My commitment scared her off?” he spat. His voice was ragged as he tried to rein his emotion, either it was pain or anger. “No, I didn’t. I did tell her that I take our relationship seriously. But what’s wrong with wanting to spend my life with the woman I love? I love her, so it’s only natural that I want to be with her, right? And if she did love me, a piece of paper that legally acknowledges our union should not affect our relationship. Just what did I do wrong?”

She knew that his questions were not directed at her, even though it did feel like it. After all, also in summer, two years ago before Louisa was even in the picture, she had given him the similar reasoning. In a sense, she also had broken his heart in the same manner which made her feel that she had no right to offer him any consolation, she couldn’t even hold her gaze at his. And for his word, Harry hadn’t given any indication to step in yet.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he muttered, noticing her crestfallen posture.

A suffocating silence engulfed them. He heaved a lung-full dejected sigh, covering his eyes with his hand. But when he looked up at her again, he offered her a weak smile which although it didn’t reach his eyes, she could see a new resolve there.

He stood up abruptly. “Anyone hungry?” he asked offhandedly.

Then without giving them chance to react, in a swift move he took all the foods out from the cupboard and arranged it on the table. And the three of them started eating just to have something to do to escape the oppressing mood in the air.

After awhile, Harry began to relay some tidbits of some random Ministry latest gossip in his effort to elevate the tension. He only got lukewarm response in the beginning, but when he changed topic to the latest letter he got from Ginny, it quickly turned into heated speculation on Harpies’ chance in the tournament between the two men while Hermione happily steered clear from it.

Despite not having any appetite, Hermione was quietly sipping her stew. Once in awhile she half-heartedly moved her head to give an impression that she was following their conversation. Therefore she was startled when she caught her name being mentioned and found that both her friends’ eyes were directed at her.

“This John guy you’re talking about was misinformed, you know,” Ron said, looked to be more of himself again. “If by bloodright he meant the land belong to Slytherin bloodline, there’s no way he could claim it. He would be lucky if he could even find it.”

_‘When was their talk had shifted from Quidditch to genealogy?’ _was what came out in her mind, but to maintain her cover that she’s listening, she inquired a “How so?”

“Salic Law,” he proclaimed. “In term of their ancestral lands, I can say that all old magical families follow agnatic primogeniture. It’s a magical covenant. The firstborn son’s claim is absolute and if no son has been born in the main branch, it will still follow the male line only. The end of the last male line means the end of the covenant and the land would just conceal itself, never can be found – which was the case of most lands under the watch of the Old Guards. So even though his grandmother was the last Slytherin, there’s nothing he could do. Just check out on what happened to Heldgram family.”

This was a discussion that she could participate.

“Then how about the Longbottoms. They are said to be one of the Old Guard but the glen is owned by Muggle. You also mentioned about Weasley estate in Irish which also owned by Muggle now.”

He opened his mouth, ready to refute her, but stopped at the last second. Then gradually, his mouth stretched from ear to ear to form a wide-mirthful grin. “Wow, it does feel good to know something that the great Hermione Granger doesn’t know,” he noted in breathy voice. He levelled up his theatrical act by placing his hands on his heart with eyes closed when he said, “This will be one of the highest moment in my life. Let me relish this bliss for a moment.”

She grabbed the nearest object she could reach – which happened to be a spring roll – and threw it, aiming at his face, while shrieking, “Ronald!”

He hadn’t been Gryffindor Keeper for nothing, he easily caught it with little to no effort. Instead, her feeble tantrum only made him laugh harder. Turning to Harry, he snickered, “She really doesn’t like to admit it, does she?”

“Don’t push your luck, mate. Notice she still doesn’t remember that she has wand?”

Ron reacted faster than her.

“Hands on the table or I won’t tell you!” he warned her sternly, ready to duck for cover if necessary.

Five years ago, she would have said she had a chance to best him in a duel. Even to date, she was sure in term of number of spells, she was still superior than him. But between the war and his experience as Auror had improved his agility, she might have to depend on luck to land a hex or two on him. Thus, she placed her hands indignantly on the table, clear to his view. She had made sure to put a menacing look on her face though.

Cautiously, Ron retook his seat, eyes didn’t leave her hands.

“As I said, it’s a magical covenant,” he began. “For the old Guards, it’s not really about legal ownership, but more about being there. Neville still lives within his land, so does Uncle Hamish. So yes, in the eyes of Muggle Law, the lands belong to those Muggles but in magic sense, it still belong to Wesley and Longbottom. Most Pure-blood families have adopted some of it to ensure that their heritance estate will remain intact and stay within the family. Except in this case, it’s more about ownership and nothing to do with _obligation_ to the land itself based on family magic, so you’ll still see lot of inheritance dispute although the repercussion wouldn’t be as severe as if it was the Old Guards. The best example for this is Hogsinbag Moor.”

“You know a lot,” Harry remarked, stunned.

He shrugged. “After Hermione mentioned about that Muggle Prime Minister, I was curious so I asked Dad and he was more than happy to a crash course on the family history. Then after Neville’s wedding, I asked again and he regaled me with this land inheritance stuff.

“Now, back to this John Gaunt. You said that his grandmother was the last Slytherin, meaning the male line had ended. And just like how Mhowl just disappeared when the last male line of the Cadwll died, same thing might happen with Slytherin’s land which was why Gaunt could never find it. But there may other reason too since I don’t know for sure whether the Slytherins was part of the Old Guards or not. Though considering that they were one of early wizarding family and renowned of their magical prowess, most likely they were one.”

He paused, blinking as if he suddenly remembered something.

“Well, come to think of it, the Blacks always prided themselves to be one of the oldest families in Britain, they could trace their lineage until before Hogwarts even existed. Their main male line was never broken and their reputation made them one of the most prominent family for centuries. Yet, how can this house be their ancestral house? I get that the area has developed, but can you feel anything from the land itself?”

“Please don’t. I start to like this house and prefer not to live in magical-whatever-place.”

While Harry responded with light-heartedly comment, Hermione took it more seriously. “What make you think like that?”

“Aunt Lucretia was a Black and I remember she once told me about Black House in Wiltshire. Because I bet with the twins that she’s not crazy, I asked Sirius just to see if I could get my 2 Galleons back. You see, if what she’s told me is true than she must be sane, right? But he just brushed it off. Come to think of it, it did sound rather far-fetched. It’s almost impossible for two prominent wizarding families to live in the same area and Wiltshire has always been Malfoy’s.”

“I remember someone mentioned that Malfoy estate was a reward from William the Conqueror. Maybe it was owned by the Black then William bought it or seized it then gave it to the Malfoy,” Harry supplied.

“Not possible,” he vehemently rebuffed him. “Even though they had used Muggle as their liaison to act as the go-between, the Black family magic wouldn’t allow it. And the Malfoys are never known to be part of the Old Guards, but they have followed the same covenant as if they’re one. And they can’t do that if the land previously was under other magical family. Even if in a way back then there’s a blood relation between the Malfoys and the Blacks – which I doubt they had – it’s almost impossible for the Malfoys to seize Black’s land and claim it as theirs.

Let’s put it this way, because Aunt Miurel doesn’t have children, Mum will inherit Prewett estate after she dies, but Bill cannot inherit it after her because he’s a Weasley. Mum and Dad married in common bonding ceremony which mean even though legally she has taken Weasley surname, but by magic she’s still a Prewett. And because Dad is a Weasley, or to be more precise a Wesley, as part of the Old Guards his family magic is stronger so all his children are claimed as Wesley, hence all of Mum’s children will be skipped over the Prewett’s inheritance.”

“I’m confused. Didn’t Salic Law work on legitimate bloodline?” she frowned.

“What do you know about traditional bonding ceremony?”

“Three days of elaborate rituals, something with bride’s side and some other thing on groom’s side. The bride’s family estate, then move to the groom’s one.”

“Good, I don’t need to explain it in detail then,” he said. But then he caught Harry’s blank stare and he sighed. “Basically it consists of a day of pre-wedding ceremony, a day of wedding ceremony in the bride’s estate, and then move to the groom’s estate,” he explained it to him.

“There’s a part on the first day in which the to-be bride will sever her magical ties with her family, then binds it to her husband on the second day, and finally in the morning of the third day the groom’s family magic will ‘claim’ her fully as part of her husband’s family. What we know now as the regular Bonding was more or less an elopement back in the days and mostly frowned upon by ‘respectable’ family because it would allude that either the bride was deemed very unsuitable so the groom’s family didn’t accept her or on the contrary, it’s the groom’s family that was deemed to be in lower standing than the bride’s and it would be beneath her to lower her ‘status’ to his. In the later case, in the future if necessary her family magic could claim her children as theirs and in some case the children are also able choose which family they want to tie themselves to. The right to inherit is only one part of the package, other than magical protection and many benefits depending on which family it is.

"But blood is blood. In term of family magic, there’s no such thing as illegitimate children, that’s why the Heldgram family ended in such tragedy. Even though Angelina and George would never marry, little _is_ a Wesley and will get the same Wesley family protection as Victoire and Dominique. Mum and Fleur may come from Pure-blood family with their own family magic and they’ve legally married Dad and Bill respectively without severing their ties to their own families but as part of the Old Guards, Wesley family magic is stronger, none of us their children can be claimed by the Prewett or the Delacour family magic. When I mentioned about can choose which family to tie with, it can only happen between two families that have the same standing.”

“Why can’t you be both, like the case with hyphenating your name?” she spat brusquely. That information had rubbed her feminist side in wrong way.

“You cannot be full-time employee for two establishments at the same time. There’s no half in-half out in term of family magic. On legal papers can hyphenate your name, but in magical sense you have to choose one. It’s not uncommon amongst daughters in Pure-blood circle to marry men from lower magical standing, say Muggle-born or Half-blood with Muggle-born father, just so they could claim the children from that union because they didn’t want to lose their inheritance to some distant cousins.”

“Seriously?!”

“Binding yourself to one’s family magic is a big deal, Hermione. Wealth is one thing, but magical protection is huge deal, especially for the Old Guards because there’s addition protection from the land. It doesn’t make them invincible, but it will give them better chance to win or at least survive especially if they’re attacked in their land.

“So despite the difference in their marital status, Mum and Fleur will not received the Wesley’s magical protection same as Angelina because in a sense they’ve never joined nor claimed by Wesley’s family magic. While in Ginny’s case, although legally she’s taken Potter name but she’s still a Wesley so she will be under protection of Wesley’s, not Potter’s. On the other hand, if you two ever have children, they will be Potter’s because Wesley as part of the Old Guards will exclude all descendant of female line. In a scenario where Mum, Ginny, Angelina, and little Fred were attacked with same curse while in the Fianna and none of them had a wand to defend themselves, Ginny and little Fred would get less damage than Mum and Angelina mainly because they’re Wesley and the land extended their protection.”

“The Fianna?”

“Our land,” he proudly proclaimed. “Wesley clan has overseen it for 11 generations. It’s larger than Malfoy estate and even Hogwarts, so it’s not possible to hide it or put Muggle Repelling Charm around the area when the Statute of Secrecy was put in place. Even if the whole clan put our wealth together, there’s not enough money to retain the ownership in the eyes of Muggle and their government. As a whole we called it Fianna, but now it consists of two and one half Muggle villages. No, two villages, one half village, and there’s a small area in the north that is part as one other village. I’ve only been there twice, but it’s magnificent! Remind me to take you there someday.”

His eyes lit up and his whole expression brightened up as he started to talk animatedly about his ancestral land. The gloom aura that had been surrounding him earlier was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let’s go through the genealogy part first. Keep in mind that I took lot of liberties to connect it with HP verse, so please don’t make it into some conspiracy theory.
> 
> \- William Peverel (c. 1040 – c. 1115, Latinised to Gulielmus Piperellus), also known as William Peverel the Elder, was a Norman knight who was a favourite of William the Conqueror. He was greatly honoured after the Norman Conquest and was granted lands and over a hundred manors as rewards which were later known collectively as the Honour of Peverel.  
He had son whose name was also William and known as William Peverel the Younger.  
(There’s a village and little parish in mid-Devon named Sampford Peverell. Its current name reflects its inclusion in the Honour of Peverel, the lands of William Peverel and his family. His _real_ great-grandson, Hugh Peverell – the name had changed spelling – is buried in the village church of St John the Baptist.)
> 
> \- Thomas Peveral, of Park in Egloshayle, was real. He was appointed Sheriff of Cornwall in 1390.  
\- In 1389, John Holland (half-brother of King Richard II), 1st Duke of Exeter was appointed constable of Tintagel Castle. After Richard, the following Earls of Cornwall were not interested in the castle, and it was left to the Sheriff of Cornwall. Parts of the accommodation were used as a prison and the land was let as pasture.  
In 1386 he married Elizabeth of Lancaster, a daughter of John of Gaunt (younger brother of the Black Prince) by his wife Blanche of Lancaster.
> 
> \- Blanche of Lancaster was the first wife of John of Gaunt. She was the younger daughter of Henry of Grosmont, 1st Duke of Lancaster and his wife Isabel de Beaumont. There was some dispute about her birth, according to her father’s inquisitions post mortem she was born on 25 March 1342 but there’s other account mentioned that she was born as late as 1347.  
Her maternal grandmother (Isabel’s mother) was Alice Comyn, Countess of Buchan, Lady Beaumont, a Scottish noblewoman and a member of the powerful Comyn family. 
> 
> \- John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster (6 March 1340 – 3 February 1399) was the third of the five sons of King Edward III of England who survived to adulthood. Due to his royal origin, advantageous marriages, and some generous land grants, Gaunt was one of the richest men of his era, and an influential figure during the reigns of both his father, Edward, and his nephew, Richard II. His birthplace, Ghent, corrupted into English as Gaunt, was the origin for his name.  
By his first wife, Blanche of Lancaster, he had 7 children in which 4 died in infancy. Some of them were:  
**Philippa** (1360–1415) married King John I of Portugal (1357–1433).  
**John** (1362–1365) was the first-born son of John and Blanche of Lancaster. He was buried in the Collegiate Church of the Annunciation of Our Lady of The Newarke, Leicester (the church founded by his grandfather Henry, Duke of Lancaster[34]).  
**Elizabeth** (1364–1426), married (1) in 1380 John Hastings, 3rd Earl of Pembroke (1372–1389), annulled 1383; married (2) in 1386 John Holland, 1st Duke of Exeter (1350–1400); (3) Sir John Cornwall, 1st Baron Fanhope and Milbroke (died 1443)  
**Henry IV of England** (1367–1413) married (1) Mary de Bohun (1369–1394); (2) Joanna of Navarre (1368–1437)
> 
> As for the folklore:
> 
> \- The Warrior Oisin is the best known tale of Tir na nOg (ch 19). Oisin was a young Irish warrior who fell in love with the flame-haired maiden Niamh, whose father was the king of Tir na nOg. They lived happily for 300 years in the magical land until at some point he missed him homeland, but then he found that all of his friends and family were long dead.  
On his way back to Tir na nOg, he tried to pick a rock (so it would be like taking a bit of Ireland back with him) but he stumbled and fell, instantly aged three hundred years. He was helped by some fishermen who later took him to see St Patrick. Once he finished recounting his story of his love, Niamh, and his journey in Tir na nOg, Oisin crossed out of this lifetime.  
(Okay, actually there’s a variation of about her hair colour. Some put it as gold, some other colour of the sun, flame, to red. But for the sake of the Wesleys’ and the Weasleys’ hair, let just say that it’s goldish-red like a flame or colour of sunset).
> 
> Does the story sound familiar? A story of young man who got lost in a magical land where he lived for days which actually turned out to be years is actually quite common in many cultures. For instance, there is the Japanese tale of Urashima Taro (it’s so well known that it’s considered as Japanese ‘national fairy tale’).
> 
> (source: Wikipedia and various history/folklore sites)
> 
> PS: My original story was actually inspired by Kalevala but it won’t fit into this ‘adaptation’, so sadly I have to remove it completely (T.T).

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I think I will give up on updating schedule. My weekly routine is getting unpredictable now so I'll write and update whenever I can. I will still try to post once a week though.  
Thank you for subscribing, bookmarking, and leaving comments and kudos.  
But especially, thank you so very much for reading ^_^.
> 
> Stay safe,  
~yukari


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